WritFict: Unfinished Devil

So I decided to make this the first post/example/showcase of my writing because it’s a completely unfinished piece that probably has no life beyond this blog. I started writing it after a whirlwind viewing of The Devil Wears Prada and the first two seasons of Desperate Housewives. I love sardonic and sarcastic humor that borders on satirical. My biggest weakness as a writer is that I can’t stick to one damned genre (not a strong marketing point for publishers). My mother’s oft-lamentation of my being a jack-of-all-trades was most certainly rooted in truth and still very evident today. But my head was swimming with ideas and I saw myself a contemporary of Christopher Moore and James Morrow – mighty big shoes to fill.

Maybe one day I’ll finish it, but until then, enjoy the opening to The Devil Also Drives a Minivan:

Mr. Tiddlesbee, Jr. was dead.

It came as quite a shock to Señor Feliño who quite accidentally mistook Mr. Tiddlesbee, Jr. as a speed hump on his way to manicure the Katz lawn and arborium. Whispering Willow Pines had remained a relatively safe and sedate neighborhood, remotely located from any vestiges of the hustled and bustled city life. Crime had become such a foreign concept to the blissfully ignorant ( but happy) denizens that the stealing of a garden gnome was seen as a venal sin.

But there lay Mr Tiddlesbee, Jr. in the rounded shadow of Señor Feliño who squinted at what remained of one of the most beloved Pines inhabitants. The brisk autumn evening had taken care to preserve the body, but it had begun to steam as the dawn approached. The only tell-tale sign that something evil occurred was the roller-coastered loop of a tire track that ran the length of his once-supple, now-mangled body.

Señor Feliño took off a tattered straw hat from his sweaty head and murmured a prayer as various Pines residents came outside to collect their newspapers – pausing a moment at the silent eulogy taking place at the intersection of Red Mesa Avenue and Magnolia Place. But on that street, on that crisp autumn morning, only one curtain was cautiously drawn aside to survey the scene unnoticed.

Yes. The quiet and mundane life of Whispering Willow Pines was about to come to an end.