Adapting Famous Writers Practice: F. Scott Fitzgerald
Chapter 4
In the early morning hours after Gatsby’s extravagant party, I waited patiently at The Shore for my new acquaintance. I eyed his new hydroplane, which bobbed up and down like driftwood on the glassy water. “Hello there, old sport.” I swung around to see Gatsby standing above me, his brilliant smile leaving me speechless for a moment. Unlike the night we had first met, I felt his eyes look deeply into mine, as if he understood my suspicions of him. For a brief moment, I thought I sensed a glimpse of tragedy behind the enigmatic Gatsby’s eyes, but it was gone in a blink of an eye. Gatsby began to open his mouth as a butler hurried up behind him and whispered hastily in his ear. His eyes narrowed and he shook his head. The emotion behind his eyes only drew me in further; who was this mysterious man, what is he hiding? At once Gatsby swung back around to me unconcerned--- at least he appeared unconcerned--- by whatever news his butler had brought. “My apologies old sport, it seems that I have an urgent business matter to attend. May we do this another time?” Questioned Gatsby.
“Why of course, is there an emergency?” I questioned. It seemed as if Gatsby could feel my suspicions through my question, as his smile quickly faded and that tragic look returned. “ Oh, it’s nothing old sport. I will rejoin you later.” As he turned and walked rapidly in the direction of his house my mind spun with questions; what was this man hiding --- I needed to find out. Before I knew what I was doing, I followed Gatsby to his house.
I stopped abruptly when I saw Gatsby approach a group of four men; all were in business attire and carried guns. Gatsby seemed to find his own bravado, approaching the men with reseasuring confidence. This all seemed to fade away in a moment, as a man stepped forward, with his gun cocked. Gatsby seemed to flinch, a smile still stood proudly across his face. “Why hello there, I’m sure there is no need for --” the man with the gun hit Gatsby on the back, and the group of men escorted Gatsby into his home. My mind spun as silence dropped over the courtyard.
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Adapting Famous Writers: Chuck Palahniuk
Chapter 31
Tick. I stare up at the bleak, hospital room ceiling. For the past few months I have been trying to figure out what shade of white it is. Eggshell or asylum? Tick. My head pounds. Only five percent of head shot wound victims survive, lucky me. A doctor stands with his back to me. “What is that ticking noise?” I mumble. My heart jumps for a moment, it is as if I already know the answer to that question. As he turns around and smiles, my heart drops as I realize about two or three teeth have been knocked out. “Everything is going according to plan Mr. Durden.” He swiftly turns and leaves the room. Panic begins to set in; what have I done now? A voice breaks my panicked thoughts; “we can still change the world you know.” Tyler stands above my hospital bed, grinning mechanically. I try to scream, but all that comes out is a low moan. His grin stays plastered on his face as he turns and struts out of the room. As he leaves the doorway, his eyes, cold as ice, drill directly into mine. He asks, nonchalantly, “Can you hear the ticking?” I immediately know what he is talking about. Everything becomes clear, as if a fog has been lifted in my conscious mind. I already know what he’s done --- what we’ve done. Blasting gelatin lines the columns of the hospital. Blasting gelatin is made up of a gel of nitroglycerine with added cellulose nitrate. I know this because Tyler knows this. Tick. I pull myself upright in my hospital bed and tear the IV from my arm, blood trickles slowly from my arm to the floor. Oh, what I would give to be dead right now. I couldn’t help but to chuckle as I stumbled from my hospital room. With my luck Tyler would have just followed me to Heaven -- or Hell. The hallway stood empty. Tick.
The ticking grew louder as I catapulted down the staircases and emerged into the foyer of the hospital. A man in the foyer, one in a security guards uniform, hastily made his way over to me. His eyes lit up as if he recognized me, and his left eye was bruised a deep purple; it looked fresh. No, no, no. What did I do? “Mr. Durden, what are you doing sir?” I pushed past the security guard, leaving a blood stain on this crisp uniform, and stumbled out to the parking lot. Tick. My mind spun. I couldn’t kill Tyler, I couldn’t kill myself, and I couldn’t stop what I had started. The world had never been kind to me; it wouldn’t let me live, it wouldn’t let me die. I fell to the ground outside of the hospital and threw my hands over my ears. All I wanted was for this all to stop. Tick. As I looked up at the hospital, the ticking stopped.
A Dunder-Lear Christmas Party
Tensions ran high as the Party Planning Committee met to discuss the annual Dunder Mifflin Christmas party. “I’m sorry Karen,” began a smug Angela in her casual sarcastic tone, “I just don’t think the Party Planning Committee will benefit from your ideas.” The table was silent; Pam and Phyliss looked awkwardly around the room as Karen suddenly got up and left. As the meeting went on, Pam let her mind wander. For months she had been trying to concoct a plan to steal Jim from Karen, and Angela had just given her the inspiration she needed.
The plan was simple; Pam approached Karen after the meeting and proposed that they should have their own, separate Christmas party in order to get back at Angela. Karen was ecstatic; she loved the idea. Pam looked at the camera and smiled deviantly; revenge was a dish best served cold, and she would have her revenge on Karen this chilly December afternoon.
As Pam and Karen set up for their Christmas Party of Revenge in the break room, Jim stood carefree in the doorway; “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Sure, will you come to the store with me to get the food?” replied Karen.
Pam filled with rage. She couldn’t let them have any quality time together, as Jim would soon be hers; but first she needed to get Karen out of the way. In an act of desperation, Pam volunteered, “ I’ll come with you guys--- I have some things to get at the store.” Karen's eyes plunged like daggers into Pam’s but she didn’t care; Karen would be out of the way soon enough.
…
The Christmas Party was in full swing; Pam was in charge of making the Nog-a-Sakes, (half eggnog, half sake), while Karen ran the karaoke machine. Now! Pam thought to herself Now is my time to strike! Carefully, Pam removed a vile of poison from her pocket and poured it steadily into a Nog-a-Sake. Pam made her way through the breakroom over to Karen; a sick smile grew on her face as she realized she would finally have Jim. She watched hungrily as Karen downed the drink, and a strange look appeared on her face. Karen began to gasp and could only mutter the words “Sick! O, sick!” before falling abruptly to the floor. Angela, who had been singing Little Drummer Boy on the karaoke machine, stopped; the room erupted into chaos as everyone swarmed the dead Karen. Everyone’s panic was interrupted as Pam’s eerily laughter filled the room. “I poisoned her! I poisoned her!” Pam chanted in a manic voice as she ran over to Jim. “Now that Karen is out of the way, we can finally be together!” Jim looked briefly at the camera, and then shouted back at Pam in disgust; “How could you do this! I could never love a murderer!” Pam’s heart shattered into a million pieces; she couldn’t believe that her plan had backfired. How could Jim not see that I did this FOR HIM, Pam thought angrily. A distraught Pam screamed in rage and grabbed a letter opener from a nearby supply cabinet. She plunged it deep into her heart and crumpled to the floor. As the two bodies lay on the floor of the Dunder Mifflin breakroom Jim looked at the camera and shrugged; “This is the least drama we have ever had at a Dunder Mifflin Christmas Party!”
