Moonlightaholics

Title: The Sun Also Fries Us
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: This story was written for the June 2010 UAS Open Challenge on moonlightforever.com. The challenge was to write a 500-word Moonlight story in the style of bad Hemingway. (And yeah, it's supposed to be silly. But somehow it managed to be kinda serious at the same time, because, well, Mick wouldn't let me be totally silly...)

Thanks to the amazing Lunalux for the challenge idea, for giving me permission to use her story title, and for encouraging me to post this. My sister, I'd salute you with a daiquiri from El Floridita in Havana, if we could only get there...

So, without further ado, I give you:

The Sun Also Fries Us


I remember once, long ago, Kostan said, “Nobody lives their life all the way up except vampires.”

“I’m not interested in vampires,” I said. “That’s an abnormal life.” And it is. I should know. I am a vampire. And vampires do not like the sun when it is all the way up.

I think back to the shade of the creosote bush, when the girl was weaker than me, when I promised to protect her. It was a good promise, a strong promise. But that was before we began to hike.

There is a rock in my boot. It makes me think of the Ardennes, of my friend’s blood staining the snow of Belgium as we sawed off his foot. He screamed like a girl, and none of us could look him in the eye after because we knew we too would have lost our manhood to the pain.

I wish it was night. I could walk in the moonlight forever. When I squint up at the sun my eyes blister. The girl leads me on. A strong girl, nearly a woman. And soon to be a mother. She is kind, and loyal, and I swore to protect her. She gives me a sweater to hold over my head but the sun is stronger than the cloth.

There is no choice but to go on. Behind us is the man pretending to be a policeman. And one must never strike a policeman, no matter what the provocation. I drag my foot forward and put it down. Ouch. The pebble has rubbed a raw spot. Then the other foot.

I can hear the hearts beating, one large and slow, one small and fast. If we do not find a rabbit or a tortoise soon, I will have to eat the girl. And that would unman me, for I made a promise, a strong promise. Only the sun, or silver, or maybe a welding torch, could make me break it. She smells very good, like Mom’s Sunday roast beef and potatoes. She walks ahead and I follow her like a bull follows a red cape. If I have to kill her, it will not be beautiful, like the matadors with the bulls. It will be a death in the afternoon with no honor. I must not eat her.

She says something and points, but my eyes are dim. I stumble after her scent through the burning desert, putting one foot before the other.

At last there is shade. Big letters outlined against the bright sky. MOTEL. I break the lock on the door and it is dark inside, but it is too late for me. I have been burned by the sun. I send the girl for ice and find the tub and turn on the water. I tear my shirt with the last of my strength. At least I’ll die with my chest exposed.

This ice is ridiculous. Call Beth. I trust her.

No, she’s not my girlfriend. It’s complicated.
<>

Wow! You did walk a fine line here....bad Hemingway indeed (honor, manhood), but still, this has some serious thoughts that as you say, keep it from being silly.

Besides the title, which is absolutely precious, this line had me rolling

I tear my shirt with the last of my strength. At least I’ll die with my chest exposed.

thanks, alle

Well to me, all Hemingway is sorta bad Hemingway... not a fan. He irks me for some reason.

But I love your riff... and yeah, you stayed true to Mick even thru the satire. A little silly, and some very cool poignancy too.
I am so excited to see a fic from you, Alle... and I enjoyed this very much.

Not a fan of Hemingway but I love some of the descriptions.

"She smells like Mom's Sunday Roast Beef"

"At least I'll die with my chest exposed"

I'm with grace it's great to see a new story from you.

She walks ahead and I follow her like a bull follows a red cape. If I have to kill her, it will not be beautiful, like the matadors with the bulls.

Nice parody, Alle.

This is awesome. You are awesome.

Alle

This is good! Really good.

I mean it is really bad Hemmingway parody. I mean, The Sun Also Fries Us???

But all kidding aside, you did a truly wonderful job of being very true to Moonlight, and also serving up a first class Hemmingway parody.

Of course, we all loved Mick's line that at least he would die with his chest exposed.

If Oscars are awarded, I hope you get one.

Or in this case, an Earnest?

Jenna

i couldn't possibly go past that title, i just had to read this!

that line about the beauty of the bulls slayed me. i don't know nearly enough about hemingway to comment on the 'badness' of this, but you've inspired me to read some.

Thanks, everyone. Lunalux thought up the title, and it really inspired the rest. I knew it would be a Mick-in-the-desert story as soon as I picked it.

It was very hard to start writing, because I'm so NOT a Hemingway-style writer. But once I got rolling, it was fun. It was a blast to do this silly little piece, but it made me think that maybe I'd like to come back someday, writing in my own style, and try to channel Mick as he trudges through that desert, putting one foot in front of the other. I realized that he might have a few things to say...

Well may I say, I would just LOVE to encourage that line of thought, Ms. Alle.

As would I You have a remarkable gift we all enjoy!

Absolutely!

Alle, anything that inspires your creativity is a very good thing!!!

Okay, the title had me

I am sooo not a Hemingway fan. (Just get me started on "Hills Like White Elephants" what a fricking AWFUL story *foams lightly at mouth*)

But this...this was masterful. Great sendup.

and

Lucky

Aww... thanks for the confidence, grace, dsr, and jen!

Lucky, I was hoping this would meet with your approval... and btw, the lines about "live their lives all the way up" are stolen from "The Sun Also Rises." Earnest wrote 'em about bullfighters, but I could somehow see a Hemingway-esque Josef saying it.

Why do I have a sudden image of Josef in a full-on toreador outfit?

Ole!!

Lucky