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! Original Text !! Rewrite!! Comment | ! Original Text !! Rewrite!! Comment | ||
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| Barry Sutton pulls over into the fire lane at the main entrance of the Poe Building, an Art Deco tower glowing white in the illumination of its exterior sconces. He climbs out of his Crown Vic, rushes across the sidewalk, and pushes through the revolving door into the lobby. || Barry Sutton locks up his Crown Vic and squeals it to a halt on the sidewalk outside an art deco meringue. <br>The | | Barry Sutton pulls over into the fire lane at the main entrance of the Poe Building, an Art Deco tower glowing white in the illumination of its exterior sconces. He climbs out of his Crown Vic, rushes across the sidewalk, and pushes through the revolving door into the lobby. || Barry Sutton locks up his Crown Vic and squeals it to a halt on the sidewalk outside an art deco meringue. <br>The Poe Building glows under the glare of virgin sconces and thrusts skyward like some priapic, machine-age gorgon. <br>Sutton checks his tie in the wing mirror. He mutters, “okay, Baz-boy, let’s rock this,” exits the sled, bolts through the Poe’s revolvers and barks: “POLICE! Hold that goddamn elevator!” || ''Terrible'' first line, with far too much detail. Do we care that it is a fire lane, or the main and not some other entrance, or that Barry has arrived by car, or that it is a Crown Victoria? Unless he is in such a hurry to have squealed up, mounted the sidewalk and bounded out of his vehicle, leaving the door open to the ignored complaints of the doorman, we do not. But hey... I like that. The present tense is a constraining affectation, but let’s run with that. <br>What kind of a name is Barry Sutton, by the way? | ||
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| The night watchman is standing by the bank of elevators, holding one open as Barry hurries toward him, his shoes echoing off the marble. || rowspan ="5"| The porter grunts and jabs a button. <br>Sutton loafer-slides the last five yards of marble and hits the back wall. <br>“Where’s the damsel at, Jerry?”<br>The porter growls, “It’s ''Mike'', dipshit. She’s on forty-one. Hang a right and keep walking.” <br>The bell pings. <br>The doors clam. <br>The elevator surges. <br>Sutton sniffs back a nose-bleed and prepares his A-game. || Flabby again. “Shoes echoing off the marble?” Please. | | The night watchman is standing by the bank of elevators, holding one open as Barry hurries toward him, his shoes echoing off the marble. || rowspan ="5"| The porter grunts and jabs a button. <br>Sutton loafer-slides the last five yards of marble and hits the back wall. <br>“Where’s the damsel at, Jerry?”<br>The porter growls, “It’s ''Mike'', dipshit. She’s on forty-one. Hang a right and keep walking.” <br>The bell pings. <br>The doors clam. <br>The elevator surges. <br>Sutton sniffs back a nose-bleed and prepares his A-game. || Flabby again. “Shoes echoing off the marble?” Please. | ||
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| style="width: 50%"| {{indent|Barry Sutton locks up his Crown Vic and squeals it to a halt on the sidewalk outside an art deco meringue. | | style="width: 50%"| {{indent|Barry Sutton locks up his Crown Vic and squeals it to a halt on the sidewalk outside an art deco meringue. | ||
The | The Poe Building glows under the glare of virgin sconces and thrusts skyward like some priapic, machine-age gorgon. | ||
Sutton checks his tie in the wing mirror. He mutters, “okay, Baz-boy, let’s rock this,” exits the sled, bolts through the Poe’s revolvers and barks: “POLICE! Hold that goddamn elevator!” | Sutton checks his tie in the wing mirror. He mutters, “okay, Baz-boy, let’s rock this,” exits the sled, bolts through the Poe’s revolvers and barks: “POLICE! Hold that goddamn elevator!” | ||