WHEN SARCASM MEETS IRONY
A/N: Greetings. I haven't written much for a while. If you're bored enough, or feel so obliged, read below. It'd be nice if you gave a review I guess… but be honest! If you don't like, please say so, and say why! After all, how can one improve if they are under the impression that there is simply no need?
Jack sighed. He'd known for all his life that the last thing he would want to be stuck with was a monotonous, invariable job. Yet, here he was, lying agitatedly on his bed as someone almost knocked the door of his newly inherited farmhouse down with eagerness from the other side. Though it was a choice forced by conscience rather than will, he couldn't help but feel a little angry and self abusive on the 2nd of Spring as he awoke on the strangely odorous single bed to begin the first day of the awaiting, quite possibly eternal nightmare.
"Good morning!" a maddeningly jovial man screeched as Jack had managed to open the door after stumbling through the crappy, dilapidated cabin. Jack groaned, bringing his hand to his head, which was now thumping painfully from the sudden abuse. This was going to be a long day.
"To what do I owe this great pleasure?" Jack looked at the man. If he weren't talking, Jack could swear he was a giant tomato. Then again, Jack thought, it probably won't be too long before I'm driven to a state of insanity that has me seeing this whole village as a bunch of talking vegetables. Jack suddenly realized he'd been asked a question.
"You do realize you're the one that knocked on my door?" Mayor Thomas blinked. This action was suddenly replaced by a disturbingly sudden bellow.
"Ha ha! You're completely right!" Jack raised an eyebrow into its well conditioned expression somewhere between skepticism and disbelief. On second thought, that may just be a perfectly reasonable observation. Jack was again snapped from his thoughts as he noticed the man was again talking. However, he was both too tired and perturbed to give a damn. And so, as Mayor Thomas continued to ramble on about something remotely to do with livestock, Jack shut the door and jumped back onto his bed. Despite his obviously delightful situation, Jack couldn't help but wish the unstable shack's roof had collapsed before he got up that morning. Jack groaned as his head hit the pillow. There just wasn't enough empathy in this world to appreciate the nocturnal tendencies of an apathetic, cynical teenage boy.
A/N: The length has indeed to do with the time of night this was written… anyway, I know it's a small excuse for a start, but are there any experienced writers willing to provide some technical advice? Cheers.