DQN Short Novel (Part 6)

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The Venetian saga brings a dramatic change in the style and cohesion of the novel, and is believed by many to be the pinnacle of DQN literature. That is to say, it's all going downhill from this point on.

It contains only 23 posts, 587 words and 3222 characters.

Chapter 3: Betrayal in Venice[edit]

It was raining in Barcelona. There was a sullen despair afoot. Unlike in Venice, where there was only betrayal and sunlight, Barcelona was pretty wet. A young boy pondered this with idle fascination, wondering whether the betrayal in Venice was particularly troublesome that day. Clear skies and a deceptively bright sun usually heralded such behavior.

He would know. He'd been to Venice.

Wondering whether rain and melancholy were preferable to light and deceit, the boy trudged forward uneasily. At least you could trust a person here, he thought. Venice was different. It was mean. You could buy an orange and get a softball, or spend five years working unpaid as, week after week, you were promised wages that never came. Men might lie dead beneath your feet, knives in their backs. Sometimes you tripped over them.

Here, however, it was just wet. Sad and wet. No one knew why and no one bothered to find out.

A lonely figure sat in a cramped steamy café, appropriately enough named "The Shitty Cafe." The 600 GET he had ordered was well cooked and lavishly prepared. He added a dash of salt from the shaker and it was just the way he liked it. whilist eating his meal he remembered something his father had once told him:

"Son, when you grow up, would you be the saviour of the broken, the beaten and those with godawful taste in music?" His father had always been prone to non sequitur after the third whisky or so.

He chanced a dreary look beyond the window. It was still raining cats and dogs outside, of course.

Every once in a while, Barcelona was like that. Blood and animal cries filled the streets and his heart with sorrow. Suddenly, his 600 GET just wasn't so tasty anymore. "Excuse me, waitress," he called, as he proceeded to sit in despair at the scene before him. He got so mad that he smacked his plate off of the table and left. He would figure out what caused this travesty if it was the last thing he did. However, he first called his one and only friend in the entire world.

( ・-・) 'sup. Mr Eyes picked up the phone after four rings, greeting him with a comment so vulgar and obscene that Satan, a truck driver, and a sailor looked on in horror at such words.

How Satan came to be employed as a truck driver and a sailor is a story for another time.

After a brief exchange of insults, the two gentlemen agreed to fart on their respective mothers and got arrested. In jail they languished and lamented for weeks until, by a bizarre stroke of luck, they got released. Turns out you can only be jailed for so long when the worst crime they can pin on you is Conspiracy to Break Wind on a Family Member. Who knew?

( ・-・) The Shadow knows." said the schizophrenic,

It was about this time the author realized he had completely gone astray and, for the sake of passable literature, probably ought never write and drink in the near future. Halfway to inebriated forgetfulness, however, and anxious to hammer out a somewhat logical plot before blacking out entirely, he trudged on. His efforts were admirable at the least - really quite astounding at the most, given his vodka-induced stupor.

We at the Gutenberg Project are therefore proud to present the work salvaged from the wreckage of that long and tiresome night.