Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style Ch. 12byBOSTONFICTIONWRITER©
Even though I disagreed with him for his support of firearms for all and for his loyalty to the conservative Right Wing and for his allegiance with the National Rifle Association, I dedicate this story to Charlton Heston for the joy he has given so many through his movies, especially, The Greatest Show On Earth, Ben Hur, The Bible, The Ten Commandments, and Planet Of The Apes. In celebration of Earth Day, April 22nd and in the spirit of Charlton Heston's The Bible and The Ten Commandments, I write this review of my story, Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style.
"He's the man!"
In the roles that he played, he was the original man's man, a manly man, and a macho man of the Earth. Only, if there is a God and if he made up it to Heaven from Earth, he'll have some explaining to do.
"Charlton, I mean, Moses! Whatever happened to turn the other cheek?"
"I turn it after I plug them with bullets from my AK-47 assault rifle."
Behold! The story...And it was so. And the review of My story Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style begins...
In the beginning...there was nothing before Bostonfictionwriter created the plot and the title of his Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story. His story was a formless void and darkness covered the creative thoughts of His mind. Yet, He knew there was something there and He knew that if He could flush it out that it was something good.
Finally, an idea from Freddie, the Son of Bostonfictionwriter, percolated in his sub-consciousness before sweeping across His mind and igniting His motivation aflame with creativity. Then, Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let there be a story." And lo and behold, there was.
He smiled with the thoughts of one of the original inhabitants of this planet called Earth, the Indians and, in this case and for this story, the Sioux Indians. They were the original ecology minded conservationists of the land before modern civilization created global warming and caused species of plant and animal to become extinct every day.
The Sioux Indians, as did other Indian nation tribes, never killed more than what they needed to eat or cut down more trees than they needed to construct their teepees with or burn in their fires. Back then, when there was plenty for all, they regarded the Earth as a non-renewable resource and put forth the effort to care for it, so as to pass it on to their future generations.
And soon, in celebration of My meaning of Earth Day, there was My story of Native American Indians honoring their roots, paying homage to their traditions that included an appreciation of the land and for all living things and creatures that inhabited the land, and celebrating their one special day of all days...Earth Day. When He thought of how He could transform this story about the Sioux Indians, caretakers of the Earth, and make it an erotic story, He thought of Lisa, a beautiful Sioux Indian girl, opening her front door naked to greet her boyfriend on Earth Day and lo and behold, the story was born.
And Freddie read the story and commanded that it was good; and He wove His characters within the twisted plot. He called the story started and the rest that was not yet developed He called nothingness.
And it was so. And that was the beginning and that was the first day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
And Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let there be characters that speak dialogue in the midst of the story and let narrative separate the dialogue.
"Damn you Pocahontas, I mean, Lisa, just say what the Hell you mean in English. I don't have my Sioux Indian decoder dictionary with me today. Just tell me what time to pick you up from the hairdresser."
"When the hawk reaches its summit in the sky, when the Blue bird of happiness shits on your shoulder, and when the chipmunk stands tall against the squeal of tires bearing down upon him by a blue Ford Explorer is when I'll be ready."
"Whatever, I give up. I'll just wait outside for you."
So Freddie made the characters that whispered their dialogue to the readers and wrote the narrative that separated and highlighted the character's dialogue and that added to and moved the story forward.
Gently and slowly running his finger the length of her pussy, he reached down to test the waters of her passion for him and she was wet, so very wet. When she reached down to feel his cock through his pants, he thought he would cum in his jeans. He was so very excited and her touch was more sensual than sexual, almost delicate. She was so deliberate in her touch. She was so erotic in everything she did, the way she moved, walked, and talked. He found her so sexy.
And Freddie read and reread His story and commanded that it was good. And it was so. And that was the continuation of the second day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style Story.
And Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let there be imagery, color, and details to allow the readers to imagine and see, and descriptions and names to discern the characters from one another. Freddie breathed life in His characters by giving them enough of a description for the reader to imagine the rest and dialogue to progress the story from beginning to end. He left as much as he could to the readers' imaginations.
And there were backgrounds of every imagery and colors and details such as, a totem pole on the front lawn, Lisa dancing naked in the living room, and Peyote filled brownies that made whoever ate them do sexually inappropriate and incestuous things to family members.
The background developed more background until the time when they all sat naked across from one another while having a conversation and laughing, as if they were fully dressed.
She was from the country, the Black Hills of South Dakota with her family spread throughout Nebraska and Wyoming with some even living on the reservation. The Irish raped her ancestors on her father's side and the French raped her ancestors on her mother's side and the combination of Sioux Indian with a speckle of Irish and a dab of French made her so uncommonly beautiful.
And there were characters of every name and description, Lisa begat Sharon her mother, Ellen her sister, Mark her brother, and Tom her father.
The characters developed more characters and that necessitated the need for more dialogue and even more narrative.
Suddenly, a head popped up over the hedge next door.
"Hello Sharon. Nice tits."
"Hello Brian. Thank you. I bet you wish you could feel them and suck them."
"Celebrating Earth Day again, Sharon, I see?" He ignored her statement and leered at her naked body.
"Yes, we are, Brian and if you weren't such a shit for a neighbor, we'd have you over to celebrate with us."
"Thank you, no. Nice tits, though, Sharon."
"Well, thank you, again, Brian," she said with a laugh. "I bet you'd like to feel them while I sucked your cock," she said again pushing his buttons. Only, this time it worked. This time he was angry. It was obvious, even in my drug induced state that he was sexually frustrated and was obviously taking out the frustration on her.
"You and your whole family are perverts and this Earth Day celebration thing, whatever it is, is all just an excuse for an incestuous orgy if you ask me," said her nosy neighbor. "You people are all going straight to Hell. Yeah, that's where you're going, straight to Hell. You're nothing but a bunch of sexual savages if you ask me. Further, if you ask me—"
"Well, no one asked you, Brian. Maybe you should mind you own business before my husband scalps you, ties you to the totem pole, and skins you alive before setting your fat body on fire."
His head popped back down and he disappeared somewhere behind the hedges.
"Who was that?"
"Oh, that's just my nosy neighbor, Brian Moon. We call him Full Moon, that's our Indian name for him because he's so loony."
And Freddie read and reread His story and commanded that it was good. And it was so. And that was the continuation of the third day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
And Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let there be chapters to separate one story from another. And He created eleven chapters to separate his story and to delineate a break in the story to give the reader a rest from the more than 36,500 words and 79 pages of typed text. Then, on his day of rest, he created the twelfth chapter to review and reflect on what he had written. And it was good and He commanded it so.
And Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let there be transitions from one paragraph to another and from one chapter to another for a sensible continuation from beginning to conclusion, so as not to confuse the readers." And He made a beginning, a middle, and an end. And He made every ending a reason to read the next beginning.
Freddie reread his story and commanded that it was good. And it was so. And that was the fourth day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
And Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let the characters bring forth swarms of other characters and let the ideas fly high above the story like the mythical bird, the Phoenix, a bird that never dies and that always flies far enough ahead to survey the landscape and to protect all who follow."
Riding on an air of electrical current that spans the width and the breath of the pages like the wind that surrounds the Earth and the waves that undulates the seas, He entertained His readers with an abundance of erotic thoughts of his or her own while reading My story.
So Freddie created more characters to carry His story from page to page and chapter to chapter filling the minds of the readers with their ideas and His characters. If one story was not enough, he developed a second story, a story within a story. From His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story, He created a fictional reader within the story who read along with the real readers. This fictional reader was paramount in helping to create a second story within the first story.
And He commanded that this second story was good and it was so.
Thus, Jimmy begat his character as the reader of the Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story and his wife, Diane, was created in his mold to help carry forward the second story.
And from the first story, the second story was born and Bostonfictionwriter said to his characters, "Be fruitful and multiply." He created even more characters with the birth of Stella, Jimmy's mother-in-law, Karen, Jimmy's sister-in-law, Brenda and Audrey, Jimmy's cousins, Jimmy's neighbors Laura, Betty, Sue, and June, and Elaine the Green Earth Clothing representative.
And Freddie reread His story and commanded that it was good. And it was so. And that was the fifth day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
And Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let the story bring forth living and breathing characters of every kind, women who weep and men who creep and sexual deviates that cheat. Freddie made characters of every kind and his neighbors' husbands Bob, Michael, Larry, and Bill were conceived.
And Freddie reread his story and commanded that it was good. And it was so. And that was the sixth day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
Then, Bostonfictionwriter said, "Let me post this story to Literotica in my image, according to my likeness, and let the readers have free will over reading it or not and over liking it or not." So Freddie posted His story to Literotica and allowed the reader free will to read it or not or to like it or not.
And Freddie reread His story and commanded that it was good or not and read or not. And it was so. And that was the seventh day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
Bostonfictionwriter blessed His characters both male and female. "Have sex," he said. "See, I have given you background with imagery, details with colors, and dialogue with narrative. Go forth and do what you will with what I have given you. Now, this story is no longer My story, but your story. You tell me what to type and I'll type it. You tell me what you think and I'll write it."
And he typed what His characters told him to type and he wrote what His characters told him they thought. And He reread his story and commanded it good. And it was so. And that was the eighth day of His Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
Before posting His story to Literotica, Bostonfictionwriter reread everything that He had written, rewritten, and edited, and indeed, it was very good. At last, He was happy with His story.
And He commanded it good. And it was so. And that was the ninth day of his Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style story.
Thus the characters with background, details with imagery, and dialogue with narrative were finished. All was done. All was complete but for one thing...the creation of the bashers. They were His bashers, after all, created with the creation and posting of His story. If He hadn't created and posted His story, His bashers would be someone else's bashers.
Born from the ashes with souls from the devil and thriving on the writing of others, surviving when given the spotlight of attention, and multiplying like the cockroaches they are, Freddie created His bashers.
With good there is bad, with Yin there is Yang, with tragedy there is comedy, and with writers there are detractors.
Be it what it may, we all live in glass houses, especially those who write and those who submit their own stories to be read, to be enjoyed, and/or to be bashed, unfortunately. Fortunately for you who bash me, though, I've never bashed another writer's story and never will. Unlike you, you who bash me, I respect the work of another writer, the process of writing, and the story too much to bash my fellow writer.
Yet, there are those of you who have relentlessly bashed every story I've written without so much as reading it through from start to finish. I dare say, as soon as I post this, they'll bash it. As soon as they see my name in capital letters, BOSTONFICTIONWRITER, they'll bash the story. Amazingly, those who are the worst bashers are themselves good writers. Only, they disguise their bashing comments under constructive criticisms, but their bashing scores confirm otherwise and their bashing words give insight to the misery that possessed them to bash in the first place.
That's okay because in their petty bashes they reveal to everyone here what is missing from their characters. These are deeply disturbed people who do not feel the joy in their own writing that will allow them to read the writings of others without bashing it. There is no song in their hearts in waiting for the story of their lives to happily unfold.
They have little understanding for the hard work of creating the plot, the characters, the dialogue, and the narrative. A lifelong apprenticeship, they are oblivious to the writer's dedication to the process of writing. They respect nothing. They are empty. They are miserable people who are alone, lonely, and bitterly angry. I pity them. I'm glad I'm not them.
To me, it is about the story and this Earth Day story, Earth Day, Sioux Indian Style is a good story and one that erotically celebrates Earth Day. Nonetheless, it doesn't matter if I think it is a good story or not. My opinion is biased. I wrote it, after all. If it is good according to the readers, the acclaim will come. I don't need bashers to tell me if it is good or bad. I know it in my heart which it is.
And on the eleventh day, Freddie posted his last chapter before starting yet another story that He read and commanded it good, as He has done with all of His stories. And it was so. There are more stories to write. Bostonfictionwriter can never rest.
For those who have read my stories, I thank you. For those who have enjoyed my stories, I'm touched. For those nitwits and knuckleheads who think that by writing this story that I think that I am God, you're nuts and/or you only want to stir up shit hoping to receive a reaction from me. You won't. I'm done. I have better things to do than to waste my talented words on you.
I am not God nor do I think that I am God. I am but only a writer and the creator of my own stories. I am Freddie, Bostonfictionwriter.
For those who have their fingers poised on the keyboards waiting to write their one stupid grammatically incorrect sentence of a bash, get a life. Develop a sense of humor. Get up of your fat ass, put the bag of cheese doodles down, step away from your computer, and go outside. There is life away from the Internet. Take a walk around the block and smell the roses. What is here today is gone tomorrow.
Cliché, cliché, cliché, but they are all clichés for a reason. Think about it.
"I really need to stop referring to myself in the third person. It's just really weird."
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