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[Urist is dead tome]

Chapter One
"Reynolds! Reynolds!" I cried out into the night. "Why do you haunt me? Your friend!"
"It is not Reynolds who haunts you! It is I, The King!" Suddenly a ghoul manifested himself in smoke, the smell wafting into my nostrils, cigar smoke.
"Foul ghost! Leave my bedside! Lest my cane find your backside!"

"Youur caaane is uuuuseless against me!" Said the spectre.
 
"No, no! Please, have mercy!" I cried as he wrenched the cane from my hands. I threw myself to the ground and cried to him: "O ghost of my king, why do you come to me as a spectre of fear? Haven't I paid tribute to you?"

"You have strayed from your ways, you have become a slovenly glutton, you have forgotten the meaning of being a pal and etc!"

"Not if I have anything to say about that!" Slap!

Chapter  Two
“So, it would seem we are exact matches when it comes to fighting…” Said I.

“Yes…” Said the Specter as he panted, clearly worse than me. A worthless pig of a man and an even worse ghost, a swarthy fellow, an ugly stupid brute. And in all these things I was the better man .

“We must pool forces! That we may be the Super Pimps to run these streets!” Said I, in a fasion most genius.
“Yes, quite.” Said the King in a particular swarthy fashion, but not swarthy enough

We drove to the hoe stables and let them loose on the city.

“Yo dig dog what’s happy napkin?” Said Foo Number One.
“I concur.” Said Foo Number Two.

“Quiet, Foo!” I cried out into the night. “You been not payin’ me for the what with an’ the services!” I said as I counted my money bags. “I like money. I like having money an’ to follow up on that statement…” I said as I threw the king at them and he killed them all forever.

“G-g-g-ghoooooosts! They doooo exist!” Foos Number One and Two in unison.
“And this ghost is a king and a super pimp!” As he knighted and then killed them.
            

[Supermikhail]

As per your request.

...I don't know. If it's some kind of modernism, I honestly don't understand modernism well enough to give any feedback. I can say that you've still got typos, and just to make sure, "The smell wafting into my nostrils." stands as its own sentence intentionally? It's kind of not grammatically correct.

What's the message of this story? Maybe if you disclosed your goal, we could consider the fitness of your means.

[Urist is dead tome]

As per your request.

...I don't know. If it's some kind of modernism, I honestly don't understand modernism well enough to give any feedback. I can say that you've still got typos, and just to make sure, "The smell wafting into my nostrils." stands as its own sentence intentionally? It's kind of not grammatically correct.

What's the message of this story? Maybe if you disclosed your goal, we could consider the fitness of your means.

Well thanks for the reply, fixed the typo you pointed out, there is no message, it is story telling for the sake of it. And I don't know the first thing about modernism, in fact, I intentionally avoided use of things that would place a timeline.

[fqllve]

Modernism is a movement from the early 20th century. Joyce, Stein, Hemingway, Proust, Kafka, Faulkner, Fitzgerald, etc. I wouldn't call this modernist.

Anyway. It was kinda funny. It started to get a little over the top and hamfisted towards the end though.

[Urist is dead tome]

Anyway. It was kinda funny. It started to get a little over the top and hamfisted towards the end though.

I would have to agree, actually. Considering I wrote the first chapter three years ago and only started writing it again because my brother suggested the idea of super pimps.

[Supermikhail]

It reminded me of modernism. Well, I don't know anything about literary movements of the 20th century. But it would be cool if the story had some cool style. Well, it's got modernistic verb omissions, and how you repeat smoke and side in the beginning... Yeah, I took an end-course test in stylistics just today.