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Random Ramblings: The Cutting Room Floor

Random Ramblings: The Cutting Room Floor

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Published by Michael V. Waechter
The original first 40 pages of my novel. I'm drunk, so I decided to just post it all. Maybe someone will read them. I initially wanted to deliver important background story at the beginning of my novel, but it got way too long and is more effective as reflections throughout the main story. "They" said at the Writer's Conference: "If it's important enough to span more than 10 pages, it needs its own book." So, here it is! I have cut it all and am posting it almost like a prequel. Random Ramblings of a Universal Misfit documents my travels across the country to jump from the Grand Canyon and my apocalyptic visions.
The original first 40 pages of my novel. I'm drunk, so I decided to just post it all. Maybe someone will read them. I initially wanted to deliver important background story at the beginning of my novel, but it got way too long and is more effective as reflections throughout the main story. "They" said at the Writer's Conference: "If it's important enough to span more than 10 pages, it needs its own book." So, here it is! I have cut it all and am posting it almost like a prequel. Random Ramblings of a Universal Misfit documents my travels across the country to jump from the Grand Canyon and my apocalyptic visions.

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Published by: Michael V. Waechter on Jul 01, 2011
Copyright:Traditional Copyright: All rights reserved

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06/27/2012

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Random Ramblings:
The Cutting Room Floor
 
I began my journey as nothing more than a todder. I was sitting in a sand box, slowly sculptingdesigns with the edge of a small, plastic shovel. The shovel moved smoothly across the coarse grains;little jewels of whites, blacks, and tans bunching in front to take lead as navigators in their native land;and the more I twisted and turned it, the deeper my carvings became. The designs swirled around oneanother, becoming rivers and streams and canyons. They began crossing and connecting and runningin circles, and I sat in the center. A world was developing before me through the strokes of the plastic
shovel… I was the Creator. Then it hit me…
 
I can fly.
 My gaze lifted from the sand below me and explored the field that lay beyond the edge of thesandbox. In the grass was a metal pole, about six feet in length, commonly used to support aclothesline so newly cleaned laundry w
on’t drag against the dirty ground. I could use this.
 I grabbed the pole in my hands, the cold metal instantly heating from the warmth of my grip. Ilifted the pole above my head. And then I was running! The field before me stretched on for miles andwas dotted by the yellow sunshines of dandelions reaching upward to worship the sky. Grass and
poppy plants tickled my ankles and cheered me on yelling “Faster! Faster! Faster!” I took a deep
breath, and then in one quick motion, I slammed the edge of the pole to the ground leaping into theair. The field vanished fast behind me as the blueness of the sky wrapped around my body till I wasblinded by its brightness. I was surrounded by a brilliant soft-white glow. I was flying!And then I was at the beginning.I have 6 days, 19 hours, and 2 minutes left until I jump.
 
 Chapter OneSometimes I think about birth and find it relatively fascinating. Each of our existences has beendependent upon so many tiny little details of events. In order for us to be who we are, the conditionshad to be perfect, and everything had to fall into place. For me to be born, my parents had to be bornfirst. My mother would have to meet my father. They would have had to have a previous child to get allthe junk genes out of the way. Then, they would have to have sex in all the correct conditions right at
the time that my hunk of happy little cells was floating around in my mother’s fallopian tube half 
-filledand waiting to be complete.Later in life I would hear the story of how my mothe
r’s parents barely met before my
grandfather went off fight in World War II and how they almost completely lost touch. They would tell
me how they found each other against all the odds and would settle down to have a family. I’d also
hear about my grandma
Waechter’s (by the way, it’s pronounced ‘Wekter,’ not ‘Wacker’) series of 
miscarriages and how lucky my father was not to be one of them. But, this had yet to happen. At thatpoint I was just chilling in a uterus oblivious to the fact that the universe had done its best to ensure
this exact pairing of chromosomes. I was also oblivious to the fact that almost 25 years later I’d be
sitting at a campground preparing to kill myself.Before going any further, I do need to mention that at some point during my development, I
was accidentally injected with a dose of gay. Now, don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy a nice pair of breasts
as much as the next guy, but the homosexual tendencies were programmed (and while several

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1 hundred reads
Steve U added this note
Very compelling...a wonderful (sad) thing on their own.
Michael V. Waechter added this note
Thanks! I love these pages, but alas, it was necessary that they be cut from the novel. They're kinda their own thing entirely.
Rose added this note
I love your style! Presents an honest and troubling picture of what life is really like for so many teens.

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