FROM PLASTICWELD
My Best Friend
The knocking at the door is loud, not a request but a demand. I am up on my feet, not as quick as I used to be, like when I was young. I can’t believe I didn’t’ hear the approaching footsteps. The old guy counts on me and I let him down.
“Luke…its ok…I know who it is.” He says it in calm voice. I am still agitated he sees this and he says it again.
“It’s ok Luke.”
We have been friends for a long time, he is my best friend because I am his. Pals, that’s what I like to call us. We hang out together, go places together. He takes care of me, I take care of him.
I am the first to the door, anything goes wrong they gotta go through me first before they get to him. I am a loyal friend like that.
He pushes himself out his chair and groans a little. His knees are sore, just like mine. Clearing his throat he makes his way towards the door. I stand my ground, I am between him in the door. He has resigned himself to this, and has to reach over me to open the door.
Two guys stand there, one of them is really afraid. He stands back. I have always liked it when I made people afraid, it never gets old. The guy in front doesn’t even pay attention to me, he sticks his hand out to shake with my pal, I know all about shaking hands. They talk awhile, I have no idea what they are saying, don’t even really care. My old friend is always polite, yet I can tell when he has heard enough; he is letting the two guys know it by slowly closing the door as he speaks. They get the hint and turn to leave.
“I guess they feel like they got to tell me all that stuff, Luke.” He says, leaning against the door as it shuts.
“It’s just you and me Buddy.” He puts his hand down and strokes the top of my head, and tells me I am a good boy.
I am his best friend and he is mine.
CRITIQUE
I liked it. Just needs some sharpening, mostly punctuation. Suggestions in red:
The knock at the door is loud - not a request, but a demand. I stand, but not as quickly as when I was young. I can’t believe I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. The old guy counts on me, and I let him down.
“Luke…it’s ok…I know who it is.” He says it in a calm voice. He sees I am still agitated, and says it again.
“It’s ok, Luke.”
We’ve been friends for a long time. He is my best friend because I am his. Pals…that’s what I like to call us. We hang out together, go places together. He takes care of me, and I take care of him.
I am first to the door. Anything goes wrong, they gotta go through me before they get to him. I am loyal like that.
He groans himself out of his chair. His knees are sore, just like mine. Clearing his throat, he makes his way to the door. I stand my ground. I am between him and the door, and he reaches over me to open it.
Two guys stand there, one of them really afraid. He stands back. I always like it when I scare people; it never gets old. The guy in front doesn’t even pay attention to me. He sticks his hand out to shake with my pal. I know all about shaking hands. They talk awhile. I have no idea what they are saying, and don’t even really care. My old friend is always polite, yet I can tell when he has heard enough. He lets the two guys know it by slowly closing the door as he speaks. They get the hint and turn to leave.
“I guess they feel like they got to tell me all that stuff Luke,” he says, leaning against the door as it shuts.
“It’s just you and me Buddy.” He strokes the top of my head, and tells me I am a good boy.
I am his best friend, and he is mine.