#2 Awkward

This was another school assignment, the subject was voice and character. I melded Frank around it, and this was the result.

I wrote this really early in the morning, and I learned that it is very hard to write comedy when you are in a ‘down’ mood. It isn’t as cringe/funny as my other Frank manuscripts, but I am pleased overall. Hope you enjoy it!

Also P.S, my Frank works are not necessarily in chronological order. I am writing short manuscripts just to get a feel of him, and figure out which direction I want to go in.


With a Micky Mouse pancake hanging out of his maw, the gargantuan man known as Frank rushes his way out of the door and to the elevator. He was relieved to see nobody was already occupying it, he often felt too claustrophobic with others (plus his large weight) inside of the small, steel container. Skimming his fingers down the panel of floor numbers, he eventually plods the sausage ring-finger of his left hand onto a button labelled ‘G’. As he waited for the door to close, he paused to look at himself in the mirrored walls of the elevator.

He could have smartened up more, but he was in a hurry. His blue convenience store uniform-shirt was only half tucked in to his silky black pants which snuggly fit around his thunderous thighs and Hercules calves. Finding Nemo crocs adorned his sock-clad feet; he wasn’t required to wear smart shoes at work, just as long as he didn’t wear converse sneakers he was free to wear whatever he wished. A drool of syrup brands his left breast, a clumsy mistake from being in such a hurry. His curly, dirty-blonde hair stretches back into a greasy bun, resting on the first fold of his neck fat and tucking in to the second. Upon the top of his head rest an old fashioned hat, one commonly worn by Italian mafia gangs in the early to mid-nineties.

Just before the door could fully close, a slender hand slices through and stops the elevator from shutting. Frank took in a deep breath of anxiety and lowers his gaze to the floor.

“Gotcha’ just in time!” Calls out a sweet voice; a girly voice. She hopped into the elevator after prying its’ maw open, and stood at the other side just after reaching out to press ‘G’ and realizing it had already been pressed. “Hello!” She exclaims, turning her attention to Frank. Her eye twitched a tad at the scruffy state he was in, though out of politeness, she tried to maintain eye-contact at least until he acknowledged her.

“Mmello.” Frank mumbles through munching his pancake. He didn’t look up to see what she looked like, he was much too nervous, especially around women. The stranger caught the drift, and thus, remained silent until they reached the ground floor and went their separate paths.

With a quickly beating heart, Frank made his way to his sticker-destroyed car. Images of Mickey and Minnie were the two most common characters. From the shape of the vehicle, it could have been a beetle, but the colours were so misleading. As he approached his car, he could hear footsteps closing in behind him. A quiet whine squealed from his sticky lips, ‘no more interaction…’ he prayed mentally.

“Hello again!” Came the same voice from before. Frank reached for the handle of his door quickly, before realizing he hadn’t even pressed the unlock button on his keys yet. With one hand, he dove into his right pocket and started frantically searching. Without touching his keys, which were nowhere to be found, his car lights flicker, and the machine makes a clicking noise to alert everyone around that it had been unlocked. What was going on!? What was happening!? Full panic spread throughout the body of the large Frank.

“Uh, yeah… You might need these if you’re gonna drive…” The female utters, carefully reaching around to place the keys on top of the car and back away, as if she was feeding a dangerous predator. He must have dropped them in the elevator. Frank’s eyes flicker up to his keys, which he grabs with hesitation. Along with the keys, came about five different tiny stuffed toys, two plastic figurines, and a big golden plaque with the Disney Castle embedded into it, all attached to a pin-laden lanyard. Without saying another word, the embarrassed Frank got into his car and started to make his way out of the car park.

The female watched as he drove away, then desists to go to her own car. What did she think of Frank so far?

“Why why why why why!?” Roars out Frank as he travels down the typical route he took to work. His gorilla fists slam against the steering wheel for emphasis of his frustration. The last slam accidentally hits the horn, giving the car in front of him a fright. In response, a single middle-finger raises out of the sunroof and directs at Frank, causing him to blush in offence.

Traffic was slow, which gave Frank more time to reflect on his poor conversational skills with the stranger in his apartment, whom apparently lived on the same floor as he. “Why’d you have to go and goof things up, Frank?” He whines to himself, “You’re never going to find a princess this way!”

Turning his head to peer out of the window beside him, he notices a girl in the passenger seat of a red jeep, watching his yelling with a slight smirk on her face. Whilst blushing further, Frank raises a shaking hand to grasp the brim of his mafia hat, and tip it in her direction. ‘Milady’ he mouths. The girl slowly raises up her phone from her lap and snaps a picture of Frank, before laughing out loud and ushering her friend to drive faster.

With a sigh, Frank turns his head forward again and stares at the vehicle in front of him which now had two middle fingers sticking out of the sunroof. The urge to scream out PG 13 insults boiled within the very gut of Frank. Cracking his window a tad, the large man leaned up and took a deep breath.

“I bet you’re ugly!” He yells, only to suddenly shut his window once he hears a quick response of:

“What did you say!?” Frank pulls down his hat a tad to try and hide his eyes as best as possible, but found the pudge on his forehead to be far too much to squeeze into the circumference of the material. The hazard lights appeared on the car in front of him, this couldn’t be good. The driver’s door swung open and outstepped a young ‘dude’.

Wearing a stretched out wife-beater shirt, and pants down to his knees, it was clear he was dressed to show off the long hours he’d spent at the gym, or money he’d put into muscle-enhancing drugs, (whichever one prefers).

The man-beast swaggers his way over to the Disney Disaster: walking in a fashion which said he wanted others to believe he was carrying a large salami, when in truth his thigh muscles were just so disproportionate and ridiculous, that they couldn’t even stand rubbing up against each other.

“I know you ain’t talkin’ to me!?” Yells the platinum-blonde meathead. Frank lowers his gaze, putting his own hazards on to let the people behind him know to drive around him. Yet, he does not reply. “’Ey! Freak!” he roars again, knocking harshly on the window. Frank reaches over and turns up the volume on his radio. He forgot he had slipped a CD into the drive the last time he used the car, however.

“Look for the… bare necessities! The simple bare necessities-“ Hollers out his speakers. Frantically, Frank reaches out to try and turn down the volume again, accidentally flicking on his window-wipers at the same time. A jet of water squirts out of the base of his window and splatters over the meathead’s face, blinding him momentarily with sanitized water.

“What the hell!? I’ll sue you for blinding me, freak!” He roars. It was now or never, Frank had to get out of here. Turning off his hazards, he put his car into reverse slightly, only to push into drive and floor his acceleration, speeding over the side-walk a tad just to get in front of the meathead’s vehicle. He was successful for the most part, bar a scrape against a safety guard by the side of the road. It was worth it just to get away from the danger of interaction. Through the rear view mirror, he could see the meathead scrambling to get into his car, but by the time he had; Frank was already too far ahead to catch up with, legally.

Turning up the volume once more, Frank listens to his favourite jams to relax himself as he continues his commute to work. He could only hope there would be no more interaction for today and his boss would let him hide in the backroom to handle the storage jobs.


. . .


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