Second Bit to My Book, I Guess

The second little bit to my novel; however, it can be understood without reading the first. As always, it's unedited and written within about an hour, though some of the thoughts have probably been in my head for a while. To borrow from Mitch Hedberg, you

MY NOVEL [B*****S]: PART THE SECOND

Brown City was a child prostitute - desperately selling itself before it had anything mature or eclectic to offer the world.  And the world of Southern Alberta was a world of new money.

The city itself sought, of course, investors of every sort, incoming capital flow, and all the inherent trappings of a booming market economy.  Most importantly, though, it needed young start-up professional families buying single dwelling units on the outskirts of town, continually feeding this infant beast.  Extending the limbs.  Highlighting the attractive features.  Fattening the breasts so the neighbours could tell, covet, and envy.

It was subtly assumed that once aged, this monster would protect and nourish the inhabitants with workforce security and unbreakable infrastructure.  It would somehow feed off of its own growth, providing unending jobs mirrored with a miraculously low cost of living.  Surely it would not treat those close to the heart as a cancer to be ignored or wiped out!  This city would never fall prey to the temptations of countless towns before it, succumbing to manicures even as the lungs grew heavy and tired.  

This was a New Economic Time.  This savage, exploding young ville would eventually protect all within her borders - all who swam within her blood each day; all who granted her soul and vitality.  

So it was thought.

The Incorporated City of Brown City was an animal; some manic tax vacuum to flaunt and hopefully appease.  But the greater area was different.  The larger geographic canvas of this town was similar to some formidable plant of fantasy; a Herculean manger of fortification and absorption.  This metropolitan plant granted the city - the beast - shade, sustenance, and solace.  These static, grey (yet almost organic and viral) suburbs and highways played the role of the shield.  The expansive environs of Greater Brown City protected the animal of Brown City Proper from reality.  Protected it from competing markets.  Protected it from accurate statistical feedback regarding employment, crime, and any-f*****g-thing-else.

Suburb leaves, commuter town branches, and expressway roots did not really have to be appeased, as they delivered no taxes.  They just had to BE.  They asked for nothing in return for this stoic shelter or these interconnected roots of route but the lifeblood of any suburb: shopping, theatre, nightlife, and drugs.  

The metropolitan area (or lack thereof) of Brown City was truly some sick, enfant psychedelic tree in the middle of a pale, wind swept wasteland.  If one were to cut that tree down they would find only about a hundred rings echoing outward, each ring representing around one thousand people: a thousand new souls for each year the beast had fed.

Author's Note

The second little bit to my novel; however, it can be understood without reading the first. As always, it's unedited and written within about an hour, though some of the thoughts have probably been in my head for a while. To borrow from Mitch Hedberg, you'll either Love it or hate it. Or think it's O.K.

Reviews

[James Watts]

The only issue is the amount of info being dumped on us at one time, which means all tell and no show. Vary it up a bit by bringing in characters and mixing them into the info you are providing, while at the same time delivering images and action.