Rock Star Степень критики: Любая, но желательно по сути
Короткое описание: История одного парня, у которого папа рок-звезда. Он гуляет, пьет и удачно транжирит деньги своего отца. Отец решает отрезать все финансы своему сыну, забрав дом, все роскошные автомобили. Отец оставляет сыну одну машину и пятьсот баксов. Продолжение прочитаете через месяцок в рассказе. А сейчас, прошу оценить и по возомжности поправить стиль письма.
Episode 1
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The birthday party was awesome as always. There were naked chicks, a lot of drink and loads of drugs. Cocaine, methamphetamine, weed, acid, whatever. What else do you need for a great party? It took place in my house. As all the quests had parked their Mercedeses and Porsches near the fountain, the party began. Not a usual fountain, but a statue of me puking with water - my dad's birthday joke. At first I was confused, but then it started making me feel different. King like. God like. After my friends came inside, they grabbed me upstairs, saying: "Are you ready for a surprise?" After walking two dozens of stairs, pulled by two guys, I couldn't take a single breathe when I saw her. "Holy shit..." She was lying on my bed in lacy underwear, smoking hot. One hand up, the other on her hip. Oh, that look, that waistline, those legs... A dream-girl, right in front of me. I asked: "Is that?.. Is that Megan Fox?" They nodded. I was about to faint, walking into the room. As the door was closed, she invited me with a finger, slightly smiling: "Are you coming or what?" The only way I could look away from here long thin legs was to look into her amazing bluish eyes. "Hell, yeah, I'm coming."
****
Though it wasn't as cozy to sit on a marble stair as it could be on a bench, I was enjoying my first smoke and beer that day, my back to the front-door. All you could see from that position were the lake Ontario, gleaming under the morning sun, and a dozen of luxury cars parked around the puking statue. Silence, accompanied by the sound of water in the fountain was making me the most peaceful person in the whole world. I drew the poisonous tobacco smoke and gave a pleased look at the wavering lake surface. Slight wind coming from above the deep, dark water was making the temperature cooler, despite the heat of the June sun. As I wrapped up my chest with the bathrobe on me, I thought about Megan. About last night. What a woman... I couldn't even dream about sleeping with her ever. Not in this life, at least. I drew from the cigarette again and sipped some Bud from the bottle. Wait a second. I am nineteen, and my father's wax statue is standing in Rock-n-Roll Hall Of Fame, right near Angus Young's one, so that's what I'm really supposed to do - sleep with the most beautiful girls in North America! For some reasons, the only things I used my status and money for were cars, guitars and prostitutes. I should have fucked Megan long time ago. The front-door opened. "Well, the next target is Scarlett Johansson." I recognised Zack's voice from behind. "Yay!" I smiled to him. His face was practically shining from happiness, as he sat down on the same stair and asked: "So, how was she?" "Dude..." I breathed out. "I couldn't even dream about such present! That is the best one in my entire life." Still shining, he answered: "Good for you, man. Elliot wanted to get you a new Gibson, but I thought, it would be much better to present you with the most pleasant thing - sex." "I love you, guys." Zack drank from his bottle, he had brought with him, and continued: "We hesitated between Emma Stone and AnnaSofia Robb, but Robb wouldn't agree, she is too young, and Elliot then said it would be great to invite Megan Fox and we stopped on here." "AnnaSofia Robb? Damn, she is awesome." "Yeah... But you'll have your chances in several years, I guess." he said in a cheery voice. I answered thoughtfully: "Yet, that would be amazing." still thinking of Megan. I gave a pleased look at the lake surface. Again. Sparkling water was beckoning me to come closer, to touch it, to dive in it. I imagined how great it would be to feel its cold on your face, on your back, abdomen. Before I could analyze my actions, I have walked ten stairs down to the fountain. "Where are you going?" I waved Zack to follow me. When the statue closed the sun above me, I let my hands swim in the crystal clear water. Its cold spread all over my face, as I washed it in the liquid. Right after the white bathrobe faced the sand-colored floor, I heard Zack: "Are you feeling alright?" I squinted at him very attentively. As I was standing in my underpants, looking into his bright brown eyes, I wondered, has he ever done anything crazy? After a several-second silence, sparkling drops severed the cool fresh air and hit Zack's face. It wrinkled and was immediately wiped with a free palm. "Oh, you wanna play?" I repeated the procedure, giggling. Zack poured pretty big amount on me and I winced, as it felt really cold on my bare skin. In a second we turn into kids. Like we are twelve and dabbling in a crystal-clear puke of the statue was too much fun to avoid. Huge amounts of water spread all over the air and the parking lot. Hundreds of drops are facing both of us, as well as some cars, standing nearby. Suddenly, I feel as happy as never before in my life. Only at that moment of spontaneous splashing I understand, it's a great luck to have a chance to splatter some water from your own fountain, at your own three-storied house, with all those Corvettes and Aston Martins parked nearby. And I feel like a king. A king, which is being lifted by an athletic-built friend and about to face the pool. Splash. My body feeling the pleasant cool of the crystal-clear puke. When my face came up to the surface, I realized, I was still holding the wet, falling apart cigarette in my teeth. I spit it away and burst out laughing, so did Zack. "Satisfied?" he asks, touching his wet shirt, stuck to his skin. He was laughing so genuinely I've never seen him before. In a minute, I was still in the fountain, smoking another cigarette. We finished laughing and fell silent. I felt pleased to sit in a waving water, shoulder to shoulder with my best friend after having a blast. I go: "Hey, where is Megan? Is she still in bed?" "Let's go find out. I need to change my clothes anyway."
****
Silk. Wood. Bed. Zack. Me. My room. Legs. Eyes. Legs. Eyes. Megan. Megan. Megan. Megan. Standing right in front of me, she was packing her handbag. Cell-phone, money-packs, lipstick... Everything was swiftly jumping into the red tiny purse. Her moves, her breath, her speech: everything was telling me she was ready to flee. Vanish. Puff. And gone. The only thing to prevent her from going was her nudity. Her gent smooth buttocks were still watching me, separated by black thin stripe of her black lacy thong. She turned around and her beautiful breasts relieved the buttocks' watch. "So, it was pleasure to meet you..." Megan started putting on her black silky dress. "Won't you give me the last kiss?" I asked, slowly moving towards her. The main reason for that was her emotions hadn't seem fake that night, what gave me the hope she liked it. I tried my best, by the way. But she put her index finger to my lips and said: "My time is over." "Ouch" I thought, watching Megan's buttocks walking through the doorway.
**** 8 days before Through the terrible headache, I was trying to avoid the guard, talking to me through the grille. I think he was swearing, I don't remember, actually. I recall, he was speaking something about my dad and some shit about money and how it's hard to earn. Sick bastard. That pain in my forehead, it was killing me. To add that barking pig in cop uniform, I was about to faint. The reason my brain was hurting so much was the magic of baton, hitting your skull. I don't remember all the details, but I do remember some pictures. A convertible, some hot stuff screaming behind, road-lines, police siren, baton... I didn't look in the mirror, but my head felt two times bigger and the skull was about to crack. Then I pictured my brain falling on the floor, red splash all over the walls, all over the guard, who would still be waffling pointing with his sausage-finger at me. Through the clenched teeth, I roared: "Shut the hell up!" glaring at him. As far as I remember, he was surprised of my insolence. His face, lit by a single ceiling lamp, changed as quick as a human wink. "Hey, you don't talk to me that way!" "Shut up, bitch!" The fatty jumped to the grille and a part of the grille sank in his huge belly. His snarled: "Listen to me, punk. You, spoiled piece of shit! If you ever talk to me that way again, I will end you, as well as suit you for racism, so you'll feed me to the end of my life." He was black, by the way. "Do you understand?" Well, I've heard enough. I felt my face burning. It turned red, started pulsing. Me eyes, filled with blood and juice, caused by the headache, stopped at his sick fat face staring at me. I felt like exploding, like tearing apart that son of a bitch werewolf-style. Rage in three, two... I jumped to the grid and smashed it with my palms. Twice. "SHUT!" Thrice. "THE!" The fourth time. "FUCK!" The fifth time. "UP!" And added: "BITCH!" accompanied by my foot heavily colliding the grille. "You better don't try me!" still roaring, spraying spit all over the pig. But suddenly something doesn't feel right. My legs refuse to hold me anymore. I whisper as loud as I can: "Don't..." My mind is off. The light is gone. And the last thing I remember is my face hitting the concrete floor.
Насколько я понимаю, рассказ ориентирован на англоязычного читателя. Начиная с названия (Rock Star) и заканчивая упоминанием заграничных див (Megan Fox, Scarlett Johansson, Emma Stone and Anna Sofia Robb) - стилизовано под второсортный американский сценарий (всё те же stag party, naked chicks, cocaine). Во всём тексте прослеживается экспрессивно окрашенная лексика, т.е. сленг. Но его можно списать на авторскую речь или создание определённой атмосферы. Тема не нова - богатенький сынок, лишенный родительских денег и выкручивающийся из этого "интересного положения", но посмотрим, как Вы её обыграете. Возможно, в новом, оригинальном ключе с непредсказуемым концом.
"Он гуляет, пьет и удачно транжирит деньги своего отца" - на мой взгляд, лучше убрать из описания слово "удачно". Оно неуместно.
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