I woke up on the bathroom floor.
Setting with conflict that raises a question: Why wake up on the bathroom floor? The answers to the question, however, are rather limited, and honestly don't interest me much. Others might be hooked, and there are certainly worse beginnings then this, but it's a pretty standard opening especially once it's explained that the narrator had a wild night of drinking irresponsibly. However, this gets the bed opening cliche because the novel begins with someone waking up after making a bed of the floor. But points for not waking up in an actual bed.
Everything hurt. My mouth felt like garbage and tasted worse.
How can a person's mouth feel like garbage? And what garbage are we supposed to imagine: Plastic? Organic waste? Glass? Rags? And tasted worse than what? Plastic? Moldy bread? Similes are nice but they need to be precise to be effective at creating an image, which is what they are used for. In this case saying her mouth tasted like garbage is as general as saying her mouth tasted bad. Yawn.
What the hell had happened last night?
I don't know. You tell me.
The last thing I remembered was the countdown to midnight and the thrill of turning twenty-one, legal at last. I'd been dancing with Lauren and talking to some guy. Then BANG!
Tequila.
Yes, bang, tequila. Bang, bang!
First thing said:
“You okay?” a voice enquired, male, deep, and nice. Really nice. A shiver went through me despite my pain. My poor broken body stirred in the strangest of places.
Okay, got it.
Did you know that the title is a pun? That should tell us something about the level of creativity to expect in this one.
Verdict: Fail
Sincerely,
Rudy Globird
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