February 9th - Howard

Below is the start to a piece of fiction I am writing, it is entirely in rough draft format and am VERY interested in "constructive criticism", please.

"Howard sat alone at the end of his bed. Still, two different comforters, two sets of pillows and the dreaded shield still adorn the sunken in king-size pillow-top with featherbed. Next to him was his birthday present from last year. All he wanted was a Desert Eagle nine millimeter pistol, he had wanted one since he was gang-banging on the hard streets of Salt Lake City many years ago. He had wanted one because it was the best and Howard always wanted the best; nothing else was ever good enough and that was part of his downfall.

He picked up the loaded gun and looked its matte finish over and over, reading the serial number, caressing the safety catch thinking back to that Christmas movie when all Ralphie wanted was a Red Ryder BB Gun or something. In the end Ralphie got his gun, and it had hurt him too.

You see, Howard always wanted to be the best at everything he tried, thus defying all reality. The problem was that he could never really “get his shit together" as his mother was want to say in his youth, but more on that later. He was absolutely outstanding in a sub-prime body, kind of like putting a Hemi in a Yugo. He shot for the moon, but ended up in Newark. That’s good. He never lost his sense of humor, that Howard. These were the thoughts as he sat contemplating his own death.

His wife had even taken his dog. Actually, the dog entered the marriage with her, so legally it was still hers, but Pete and Howard had a bond. Howard was the first to discover Pete’s penchant for shelling and eating peanuts. That is right, he shelled them first. Many a party night was spent to the entertainment of Howard watching Pete shell the peanut and then eats the nut. Back to Howards wife.

They met and married as a practical joke, very fast romance, very passionate. They shared a love of music and of wine. Like a good wine though, the flavor changes over time, and some times loses its appeal. It seemed as if Howard’s marriage had done that in the end as well. Sour Grapes. Too many fights about stupid things. Too many times calling each other asshole or threatening a divorce or asking why they were still married until one day Howard woke and they were no longer married.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves, or are we behind. We have left Howard sitting with a gun, thinking of suicide. How did this all start, where did it begin. It began
"