Question by Sparky: Hello! Please rate my writing?
Hello! I’m an aspiring fiction writer. My aim is to generate works of intense emotional depth that men and women can relate to. I hate to be immodest, but I’m a genuinely excellent writer.

Thanks for reading.
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Jack Maverick’s Final Stand – The Revenge

He woke up with amnesia twice in 1 morning, never ever knowing till he caught himself reading the paper. “War!” mentioned the paper’s headline. He scoffed and smirked and scoffed once more, throwing the paper aside into a fire where it curled and crinkled and did that thing exactly where the edge is alight and burns around in swifty swirly patterns that leave behind nothing but ash like the ash that was his soul.

He was at a bar, at night, and a man accosted him. “Just let me drink in peace,” he said with gravel in his throat, and the other man puffed out his shoulders and shot back, “okay, sir. I will.” Then Jack Maverick coughed up all the gravel in his throat onto the bar and the bartender said, “Jesus %#&#ing Christ and threw Jack Maverick out of the bar, he hit his head on the ground and remembered the “War!” headline on the newspaper and remembered the War! he had fought in – the headline of his heart.

Two men with sunglasses and black suits with black ties and black hair and black earpieces and black shoes – they were actually black men – got out of a black shiny government car. Jack Maverick pretended not to notice them as he fished about for gravel inside his gumline with his trigger-calloused index finger, type of trapped beneath his upper lip which was a wildly uncomfortable spot to have the gravel. “Jack Maverick,” 1 of the males stated from behind his sunglasses, hiding like a coward would hide behind sunglasses.

“That’s Jack… Maverick,” Jack Maverick corrected the man. “We want your assist,” the man mentioned, “your country needs your support.” Jack’s stomach welled with patriotism and a tear came to his eye, “I’m not that guy any longer,” he said as trumpets played in the background, the kind of music you would hear at a funeral for a dead soldier, “I am a dead soldier,” Jack Maverick believed. One of the black men pointed at Jack Maverick’s stomach and stated, “appear at this pot-belly of patriotic swellage, Jack, it is glowing… glowing red white and blue.”

“I’m not that guy anymore,” Jack Maverick stated for the initial and final time.

“Jack you’re the finest super-soldier rockstar football player particular agent spy pilot portion-time-pizza-shop-owner marine this country’s navy has ever had the pleasure of throwing away to a miserable life of beers and amnesia which we completely didn’t give you except that we did but that’s a conspiracy that I’d better not give away but because it is foreshadowing for a later improvement where you discover it and then shoot me with a 1-liner like…”

“Guess that wipes your windows, boss,” Jack Maverick cut him off as he smoked 3 cigarettes duct-taped together.

“They have your daughter, Jack.”
“I’m not that guy any longer.”
“Yes you do, her name is Lisa and her mom’s the Russian spy you courted in your pizza shop.”
Jack reluctantly grunted and spit out the last of the gravel as he got into the auto. “I’m only doing this because I adore my daughter and my nation.”
“I love your daughter too, sir,” said the other black man.
Jack looked at the government agents with disgust, “you know, you folks are what’s ruining this country.” Damn the government simply because I hate the government.
“Say WHAT?”
Squadilah, they had been off.

Very best answer:

Answer by Elaina
eight.five/10

Extremely great, but I’d like to see more.

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