The Homecoming by Carsten Stroud

There was this Chinese Lear, first in line at Mauldar Field, locked and loaded, an arrow in a full-drawn bow, jets spooled up, brakes smoking, flaps flapping - the tower phone starts to shrill - a loud metallic howl - John Parkhurst, the tower boss, snatches it up, and what he gets - he told the cops later - is this shrieking raging rant from this loudmouthed -

Whoa, what drug does the reader need to be on to digest all this; can you guess, kiddies? That is the first line and first paragraph. I have no idea what is happening, who it is happening to, where it is happening, if it is happening or why I should even care if it's happening or not. Talk about overload; talk about jamming a whole McChicken - McFeathers and all - down a guy's throat when all he wanted was a McNugget. It's like a gory car crash with 67 victims strewn all over the highway and, damn it, I can't stop staring. I admit defeat, I've been manipulated; I read on.

Anyway, this should appeal to any typical brainwashed, pathetic, 21-century creature with little attention span. It kind of feels like a TV channel flipping session while waiting for an ex-girlfriend to show up at your door begging for a second chance, promising she'll do anything this time around. Yeah, I'll turn that page.

First line of paragraph two:

Okay, to help this make sense, Parkhurst is a part-time Pentecostal minster...

Nope, that doesn't clear things up. So I must keep reading, I just can't let this kind of confusion rot in my brain.

First thing actually said by a verifiable character:

"Hey, dudes."

Right... I keep reading, but now I'm wondering: Are all the characters going to sound like stupid teenagers trying to sound like stupid, inebriated adults?

Verdict: Cool (I want more - I may regret it later, though )

Sincerely,
Theodore Moracht