This is a paper I just wrote for my creative writing class. The assignment was to portray stereotypes as harshly as possible. Its a little sloppily written and a bit too metaphorical maybe, but there is hopefully some humor in it. Anyway, here it is:

(I made a few corrections. Thanks Nate!!)

The Usual Ordeal

Somewhere in the Sahara desert, a small plane carrying seven people has crashed. The destination was not important, and neither were the reasons why these people were on the plane. The pilot and copilot are dead, and any maps, food rations, water or other critical cargo had been completely obliterated by the impact. All that remains are the seven passengers themselves, a compass, a 9mm handgun, and a vast sea of sand dunes that stretch further than any of their eyes will ever see. When the survivors finally gathered themselves and realized the desperation of the situation, some panic ensued. Not just panic at the thought of being the only life for perhaps hundreds of miles, but panic at the thought of having to work with each other through the whole ordeal. The security of the plane’s cabin and the simple knowledge of being on route to their destination had given the six passengers some comfort despite their obvious differences. Now, however, they were no longer passengers, but survivors, and to survive, they had to work together.

The seven survivors included an urban black guy; a sultry blonde; an eccentric gay guy; a young corporate white guy; a conservative Christian preacher; a hippie; and a Jew.

“Aww hell no!” exclaimed Jerome. “Is this shit fo’ real?” “Alright everybody, just calm down. We’ll all have to put our heads together to get through this,” said John, the young white guy, immediately taking charge. “Well shit. Who put you in charge?” “Whew,” said Jenny. “It’s getting pretty hot already.” It was hot; the desert simmered them at 110 degrees. “I think I’m going to take off my shirt.” All the men immediately turned their heads, except of course for the eccentric gay guy. “Honey, go right ahead, it isn’t going to bother me!” said Bruce. “You know why this plane crashed?” shouted Reverend Mathers. “Because you were on the plane. You were in defiance of God’s laws, gay man. God is punishing all of us, for your own sins.” “God already punished us by keeping you alive, you religious nut job,” retorted Bruce. “Okay, we are going to have to work together to get out of this,” John said, once again. “Hey, like I said, who put yo’ ass in charge?” said Jerome. “Chill bro,” John replied. “I graduated from Harvard’s business school with a 3.75 GPA. I was vice president of my fraternity, captain of the football team in high school, and head of the drama club for 3 consecutive years.” “That doesn’t give you any authority, you spoiled all-American brat,” complained Eli Rosenberg. “So who is going to carry that big gun?” Jenny seductively asked. “Damn girl, I already got one!” said Jerome, jokingly. “Nonsense,” John said, “I already have it. If I’m going to be the leader, I’ll take the weapon, AND the compass.” “This is ridiculous,” complained the irritated Rosenberg. “I would never give a gun to black guy anyway, I should be the leader.” “Peace guys, lets just have peace,” Sunshine the hippy said, passively. The others were weary, but figured that John had the right amount of past experience to lead them through this desperate ordeal. With the brave white guy as their leader, the remaining survivors from the plane crash set off across the desert. John, of course, made Reverend Mathers his right hand man, should anything happen to himself.

The first and foremost task was to find water. It would, unfortunately, be their only task. They decided to head north, figuring that by heading north they would be closer to the north pole, and the temperatures might be cooler. Actually, it was John who decided this, even though there was some dissent from the gay guy, the black guy, and the Jew. John, the democratic leader that he was, decided to take a vote amongst the group members, concerning which direction they were to take, and being that the vote was tied three to three (the passive hippy really didn’t care), they flipped a coin, with the winner now being obvious. So they headed north.

After hours and hours of traveling, and their mouths considerably more parched, they spotted vegetation, and water – an oasis, or so they thought. “Well, what do we do now?” whined Rosenberg. “Its nothing, it’s just a mirage, a test from God,” said Reverend Mathers. “I agree. We should not change direction and keep heading north,” said the leader. “Yo, I don’t like this too much,” said Jerome. “I don’t think we should head towards the mirage or in the direction of north!” griped Rosenberg. Bruce and Jenny were too busy talking about the latest fashion and interior design trends to even care. “Well? What am I suppose to do? Should we split up?” asked John to the Reverend Mathers. “Of course not,” he replied. “Stick with me, I am a man of God and I know he will redeem us all for our sins, be we unsaved Jews, homosexuals, drugged up hippies, drug dealers, or whores. “You think cause I’m black I sell drugs? Get a clue you old nut. I’m leaving. I don’t trust any one of you honkies anyway.” And so Jerome took off on his own; and now there were six. “Eh, he was worthless,” said the Christian. “Not as worthless as you, you condescending white trash from Alabama,” proclaimed Eli Rosenberg. “At least he wasn’t a power-hungry inbred.” “Do you want to be saved Jew? Follow me and God will guide us to water and safety.” “I’ve had it with this leadership,” whined Rosenberg, for the last time. And so, like Jerome, he too departed on his own.

It was now night and even more difficult to see anything ahead. They continued to walk towards nothingness. It was also near freezing, as once the sun goes down in the desert, the heat escapes like an open oven. “It’s so cold,” said Jenny. “Well, instead of acting like a whore and taking off your shirt, you could be much warmer right now with one,” said Reverend Mathers. Jenny, being the blonde airhead that she was, had left it at the crash site. “Oh my god, how could you say that to her?” said Bruce melodramatically, trying to be compassionate. “Well, the Christian is right you know, it is your own fault,” John replied. “You are all misogynistic pigs!” shouted the blonde. “I’m leaving with Bruce.” So Bruce and the sultry blonde Jenny headed towards another direction, leaving John and the Reverend Mathers with the hippy fellow, Sunshine. After several more hours, they stopped to rest for a moment. When it was time to continue, Sunshine refused to go. “I think I’ll just lie here and watch the stars,” he said. “Astrology is a pagan religion. Do you wish to be saved? You should come with us,” replied the Reverend. “Well, maybe I’m just watching the stars and dreaming.” “Suit yourself, young fool. Our path will be righteous,” the Reverend said.

So now John remained with Reverend Mathers, and he considered using that gun on him. It was his fault that they were still lost and alone, his fault that the only woman on the trip left him with that fag. It was once again a hot afternoon, the sun cooking them alive; yet they stumbled onward. Maybe that mirage hadn’t been a mirage after all. Maybe it would have been worth it to just go look. Or maybe heading north the entire time wasn’t such a bad idea either; maybe they would find civilization, or water, soon. He was thirsty and didn’t really care whether God was involved or not. And just as he was thinking those thoughts for the thousandth time that afternoon, the Reverend dropped dead right there in front of him, died of a heart attack. Now John was completely alone, and the cause of his troubles was dead, just not by his own hands, like he was beginning to regret.

So the white guy John, like the other five survivors, stumbled around for a few more hours in the desert, alone. And like the other survivors, the black guy; the hippy; the Christian; the gay guy; and the sultry blonde; he died a lame and lonely death on that fateful day by himself (the gay guy and the blonde also died separately; they parted ways after angrily disagreeing on which purse line was more appealing), in the middle of the hot, oppressive desert, from severe heat exhaustion. The last survivor of that harrowing day in the desert was Eli Rosenberg, the Jew, who somehow made it to Cairo; only to be killed by an angry mob of Arabs later that evening.

Well, read your first lines.

"Somewhere in the Sahara desert, a small plane carrying seven people has crashed. The destination was not important, and neither were the reasons why these people were on the plane."

You tell us the destination and then go on to say it's not important. Is this a deliberate literary ploy, similar to Nick's narration in The Great Gatsby in which he claims never to lie and in the very next sentence contradicts himself? If not, I'd suggest changing these lines.

No, the destination of the plane wasn't insignifcant, but the story takes place, in the desert after the plane crashes. Sorry if I didn't use enough clarity but I wrote the whole thing from the top of my head in like an hour.

I liked it a lot, my favorite part was the ending with the jew. One thing that i thought you could add somewhere is the black man complaining about the speed that the white guy was leading(stereotype that black people are lazy), then have the white guy come back with "at least you arent getting burnt, you have an all around tan, this is where you people origionate from so I dont want to hear your complaining".

Hehe, thanks for reading it, and for the tips. I appreciate it

I couldn't read it all. It hurt my brain.


However, if you're going to bother listing WHAT the characters were, you should have gone the whole nine and given their names THEN, instead of making us try to guess who was which later on.



My brain siezed up soon after that. New characters speaking require a new paragraph. Shouldn't that be taught on the first day of a creative writing class?

Thats not always the case, but it would certainly apply here. What kind of creative writing class asks your to perpetuate stereotypes, why have I not been blessed with this course?

Too lazy to do it, sorry. I think that was obvious.