Newgrounds.com — Everything, By Everyone.

In regards to your prose you're no Dickens, and in a sort of ironic way, I find myself enjoying the story more because of this. Your writing style is very simple and in consequnce I have no problems comprehending the gore-filled adventures of Jake the Werewolf. The plot is intriguing and filled with blood and fights at every turn, but what really impressed me were the characters, in this aspect you did a truly great job. Jake has an interesting personality and I find that you really gave him a voice, and Cale is also very well conceived. I'm looking foward to chapter 3! :)

By the way, read my story, A nod returned.

At 1/31/10 06:58 PM, Rude-Awakening wrote: Good, it could've been expanded were the scope not so small.

Elaboration would be greatly appeciated, what made it good? :)

At 1/31/10 04:37 PM, UnknownFear wrote:

At 1/31/10 04:25 PM, Dubbi wrote: In that you can read it but just can't understand the actual content , or you can't read it because I did something with the paragraph format?

The concept. Sorry, it sounded good at the beginning, then I kinda got lost lol.

My prose is a bit advanced, sorry. Well I guess I can try to break it down.

Paragraph 1: The Narrator is satying how he had to make a really important choice and people keep on asking him questions about it. This story is him answering the two main questions.

Paragrapgh 2: The narrator describes what caused to make the choice. The beginning says that a man's soul is more important than anything else when you make choices. Because it you do something that goes against your conscience you will regret it. He is saying he had to change something because his soul was against what he was doing. (We don't know what the decision was yet) Next he says when he made his choice. It happened in his bedroom and he's lying in his bed awake because he can't sleep because his thinking about his life and how he needs to make a decision. He ends up making the decision that his soul agrees with and he can now finally sleep.

Paragraph 3: He decided to make a change and he is happy that he finally decided(this was his decision) but he has yet to do anything about. He decides he needs to do what he said he would, now or it will never get done. But before he could he needs to tell his father his decision.

Paragraph 4: Describes his day right before he speaks to his father. He's nervous and in order to relax himself he just stares at the sky.

Paragraph 5: Describes what he sees when he stares at the sky. (It's really beautiful)

Paragragh 6: Describes the birds he sees, they are happy and nice. He evies them because none of them are greedy or mean. He thinks the birds nod down at him, but he doesn't back because he feels that the birds are far superior to him (because he still hasn't done what he said he do) and because of this he doesn't believe he has the right to nod back.

Paragraph 7: His dad comes and is very happy. The narrator is scared this confrontatin will make him unhappy.

Dialogue: They begin there talk, the narrator asks the father if he likes his job. Father says yes but he regrets not earning enough money for the family. Son says he didn't care about the money. They tell stories of when the narrator was still a kid. Narrator remembers that he has to tell his father about the decision already. He does and tells his father that he wants to quit his job as a lawer and get a job in construction. (This was his decison, his soul didn't accept him being a lawer because of all the lies, deceit and vanity at the job) The dad is angry at first, but he accepts it because he knows his son will be happier this way.

Paragraph 8: Describes his new job in construction. It's a lot harder and less fun but he feels like he's doing the right thing. At the end he stares at the birds again and since he fulfilled his decision he is able to nod back at the birds.

Just more of the same from the bufoon that is Obama. All his suggestions include expanding governemnt to solve our problems whether we want them to or not. One of my greatest vices with that abhorent speech was his refusal to concede healthcare reform. Does he not see that the America doesn't want it! Also I didn't like his intimidation of the supreme could and his ludicrous remark that all scientific evidence points to man made global warming. He seems to STILL completly ignore the entire Republican Party even after our win in Massachusets. But the great thing about a democracy is that when you don't you listen to your constituents you will get voted out. I can not wait for 2012!

My single greatest influence would have to be F Scott Fitzgerald. The Great Gatsby may just be the greatest novel ever written.

At 1/31/10 04:11 PM, UnknownFear wrote: In all seriousness, and I am not trying to be offensive, but I can't read it. I can't understand what the paragraphs are actually saying.

In that you can read it but just can't understand the actual content , or you can't read it because I did something with the paragraph format?

At 9/1/09 07:19 PM, UCanCallMeJesus wrote: I am sorry I thought you liked me.

You just made my day, Jesus.

At 1/30/10 10:25 PM, Warforger wrote: It was a rhetorical question

This will make his alcohol problem worse and he'll probably kill himself.

That's got to be the most horrible thought I've ever heard. You're an awful person.

Yah so just because I thought of how it would effect your dad that makes it an awful thought making me an awful person, makes perfecto sense.

No, you're an awful person because you have no empathy nor sympathy for the TC and you only care about his abuser. His dad's a drunk jerk not a suicidal person in need of love. He obiously has no respect for his son and wife and deserves to be divorced. He won't kill himself, he'll just continue to be a drunk asshole, but at least he'll be incapable of abusing his family. Unless you suffer from Stockholm Syndrome you should have no pity for this asshole.

I knew all of these words. :)

I really liked it, a story from a forum hasn't caused me to laugh this hard in quite some time. "He was so anxious he was getting hard just thinking about it.", epic win!

By the way, read my story, A nod returned.

I really enjoyed you poem. The rhyming was perfect and the plot was intriguing, but there was a few flawa. For example, "And he did know this" should just of been, "and he knew this". Other than these minor blemishes you did a great job.

By the way, read my story, A nod returned.

Well I read both chapters and I plan on reading the third. Whether this decision will be regreted or not will depend on if you can improve your writing. I like the idea and the story has potential, but it seems like your rushing, a good story depends on the actual writing just as much as the plot. Don't write just to tell the story, choose your words sentences carefully and make sure everything flows. Take this line from your tale, "There's one thing about this watch that makes me irritated though." Why not change it to, "Although there is one thing about my watch that irritates me." Doesn't that sound and flow much better? I truly believe you can improve your writing, but you need to much more effort into it!

By the way, please read my short story, A nod returned.

ter seeing the distress written on my face.

"Dad I don't know how to tell you this, you've always seemed proud of me being a lawyer, but I need to quit."

"What are you talking about!" my dad wailed. You spent your whole childhood saying that's what you wanted to be!"

"Because that what you wanted me to be! I was just a kid dad, a kid who wanted to please his father!" I roared, the lock on my anger having been broken.

My dad's countenance changed from a one of vehemence to concern.

"What's all this about son, he inquired consolingly.

"I can't do this any longer, being a lawyer, all the lies, deceit and vanity. I have a friend in the construction business, who promised me a job, dad, I'm just asking for your blessing."

"Son, you've always had my blessing"

My father put down his drink, as I did the same; we rose and embraced in an even greater hug than our previous.

Now that the former question is answered I'll move onto the latter. Well as predicted the income was drastically reduced as well as the extravagance. Working in the scorching heat doing pretentious patrons bidding (Coincidentally some were former colleagues) may seem feeble when compared to working in an air conditioned office and receiving ludicrously high pay, but there's nothing feeble about self respect. So as I sit here, on one of the previously mentioned chairs now arranged on a different patio situated in a much smaller property, finishing up my story, I again gaze at the birds flying overhead, and this time I nod back.

Hey fellow newgrounders! Well this will be my first on this newly discovered forum (I frequented the games and videos for about a month, but it wan't untill today that realized there was a forum) and to make it all the more special I will post this story that I worked very hard on. All criticism is greatly appreciated especially contructive criticism!

Nod Returned

In the time since my fateful decision many of the friends, relatives and former colleagues who remained in contact have asked me several questions regarding the experience. Whether their inquiry resided in actual compassion or just the curiosity to know if Jimmy Norton was as crazy as everyone says he is, the questions always remained the same. The redundancy of answering the same thing over and over again for an apparent eternity is starting to drive me mad, so this will be my last say on the matter. Without further ado I present my final response to the perennial questions of why I did it and if I thought it was worth it.

Contrary to what we want to believe, we alone on not the sole deciders of our own destiny, there is greater force which ultimately lies in the heart of one's own being, one's soul. Despite its monumental significance, we scarcely ponder it, we just go about our lives recklessly making expedient choices, but any choice made in conflict with this force is futile. My experience with this truth was no exception. For this reason I always knew my former life was a mistake, I always knew which inherent debater would prevail and I always knew my destination, I just didn't consciously realize it until a certain moment many months ago. If one wanted to know the exact details of that moment, when I first became consciously aware of my obligation to my subconscious, I would respond (but thankfully I don't have to any longer) that my epiphany of some sort occurred in my bedroom where like on many nights before I laid beneath my covers desperately trying to fall asleep. This particular strenuous night saw my exhausted body laying restless on my bed incessantly twisting and turning, begging my brain to grant a vacation, who refused to oblige until his supposed master let his conscience catch up to him. The argument being debated between my superficial self who would have much preferred my current state of living against his more sophisticated equivalent had seemed to be going on for quite some time. Hesitantly, I removed the covers from my face and glanced at the clock resting on the wall opposite me. To my extreme agitation the hour hand was ticking ever closer to the impending XII. It had become discernible that a conclusion must be reached. Almost instantaneously whether by fate, magic or whatever the hell you wish to believe the debate was resolved with latter debater prevailing, which caused a wind of relief to buffet against my body. The incessant oscillation that plagued me ceased, having been replaced with a glorious slumber.

The days that followed were shrouded over a façade of bliss. My mind was at ease and a newfound sense of conviction had overtaken me. There was no doubt those days were sublime, but inevitably ephemeral. If I continued to endlessly wallow in the status quo my ambition would remain just an ambition. The time had come for me to proceed onward and the first thing on the list was to confront my greatest hero, but for that reason my greatest shortcoming, my father. (If you mistake anything from this tale please don't let it be my previous statement, for if this is the case the preceding 553 words were written in vain. My father was a great man and at that a great dad, who just wanted the best for his son.)

One of the more noteworthy memories I retained from the day I had a talk with my father occurred before he even arrived at the agreed upon 8.00. I was sitting restlessly on one of pair of chairs arranged on my patio anxiously awaiting his presence while tormenting at the thought that he wouldn't be late, (For he was the type of man who would gallantly risk death before disrespect.) when in an attempt to compose myself I commenced a course which I hadn't journeyed on in many years. This course brings me back to grade school where a teacher whose name escapes me once told me, "If you ever got too anxious, just close your mind at stare at the sky." Partially to my own surprise, I did just that.

What began as a simple relaxation exercise transformed into a meditative trance. Never before had I been so mesmerized over the ubiquitous beauty of nature. My eyes awed over the peaceful light blue hue of which they desired, but only to be kept separated by the vast distance between them. At this rejection they leaped to the lush green trees and bushes that were dancing in moonlight after being spurred on by the gregarious wind. At such peace they all were, the smiling sycamores showed neither signs of greed nor any indicators of stress. The spectacular sky had no blemishes of sorrow anywhere on its tremendous canvas, but what impacted me the most on that perfect summer day were the birds, yes the birds.

Two dozen of them, maybe more, were flying overhead in unison, but not one of them flew with any selfish intent nor was a single bird scheming to swindle a few cents from their associates. They flew for themselves and flew for each other for they all wanted to achieve their own dream, but none of them wanted to do it alone. And as they continued their journey towards the south I swear each and every one of them nodded down to me, a nod which I didn't return, for I had no right.

Soon after (several minutes before eight), my father arrived in the driveway, disembarked from his Grand Cherokee, and hurried towards the patio. There was an unmistakable confidence in his posture and jubilance in his steps, both of which were unquestionably caused by me and I feared that this conversation would rip both attributes from within him. As our proximity shortened we began to stare into each other's faces, he into my anxiety stricken countenance and me into his amiable face and receding hairline, which had aged and grayed respectively, much more than I remembered. It truly had been too long.

"Oh it's been too long son, you don't know how happy I was when you told me you wanted to have an old father so talk" and I knew he meant it.

Suddenly the arms of my father wrapped around me with such force that an onlooker might misinterpret it and think we hadn't seen each other in years, a misinterpretation that would be almost true.

"It really has. Wait here, I'll get us some beers", and as we began our drinks so did our conversation.

"Dad can I ask you something?"

"Certainly son", he replied with his famous grin.

"Did you..., did you like your job?"

"Well it couldn't get us the house you live in now", he replied proudly.

"I'm not asking whether it paid well, I'm asking whether you actually liked it", I asserted with a bit of irritation which quickly brought a bit of remorse.

"Is there a difference", he inquired with a laugh, a laugh which I reluctantly returned. "Well what could I say, it was a construction job, not the most glamorous job in the world, but it brought home a paycheck and I worked with the best guys you'll ever meet. So I guess I did enjoy it, but I always wish I could have given you and your sister more."

"Dad, Rachael and I couldn't have asked for any more. Since you brought up the subject of your deranged co-workers can you remind me of the story where you and Dan Rogers almost got fired when."

My dad cut me off, "this old nut job refused to pay us because he was convinced we put in the wrong tiles, so on the way out Dan screams to him, why don't you do us all a favor and go to a nursing home!"

We spent the next twenty minutes reminiscing on old tales and telling new ones, but when the stories dried up it became apparent that I needed to tell my father the reason I organized this meeting.

"What's the matter son", my father inquired compassionately aft