Rattlesnakes

This grew out of a writing exercise that Nick started. Doing it all in dialogue was accidental, really—it just seemed like the best way to address the remit of the exercise, and to go it one better—to eliminate description altogether.

I was thinking about Richard Avedon's portrait series In The American West, in particular of this picture...

Imagine that kid grown to leathery, arid manhood in the relentless white light and heat of that image...

from Protagonists Without Adjectives

"Hey. Hey, Boyd. Whatcha lookin' at?"

"Rattler. Gotta be a six-footer."

"Where?"

"There. Under the shed. See? He come in outta the yard to get cool."

"Daaaaaaamn. Good eye. I never woulda seen that. You gonna take him?"

"Fool if I didn't. That's two pair of boots right there. Old Hank'll gimme a hunnert bucks for a skin like that. Get me my knives. "

"Hunnert bucks. Christ Almighty. Whatcha gonna do with the money, Boyd?"

"Dunno. Open the case, willya? Can't work the locks with these gloves on."

"Shit-fire, makin' me thirsty just thinkin' about all the beer I'm gonna buy with my half."

"Your half?"

"Shee-it! Look out, Boyd!"

"He's fast, ain't he? Watch me, now..."

Thunk.

"Go-o-o-o-o-oddamn, Boyd, you got blood all over my shirt!"

"Quit yer moanin'. And you can forget about that beer, you useless son-of-a-bitch. I ain't bustin' my ass skinnin' rattlesnakes so's you can drink the profits away."

"Well, that's just fine. Next time, get your own damn knives!"

"Aw, shut up. I'd a left him live he'd only ended up down the cellar-hole and got you in the ankle some night you gone down for a beer."

"Yeah, well, there ain't gonna be no beer, now, is they?"