Fiction M/F Dialogue
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Chapter one western Illinois, 1975. Hey Janet get me a slits, would you buck requested, as he lumbered through the door and plopped to a seat at his favorite table in the corner. Coming right up. I agreed. You want a shot with that, nah, he waved a hand downward, his fleshy face settling into disgust. The Missus says I need to cut back just one beer night and no liquor. He padded the ponderous belly under his ragged overalls. The bar erupted into laughter as bikers, truckers and yokels slapped him on the shoulders. By the time the night was up he'll have had triple his allotment and the missus would be none too pleased. I reached into the cooler behind the scarred countertop and retrieved an amber brown bottle, yanking off the top with a practice tug of the Barkey. I walked the 15 steps across the room, dodging between the patrons and set bucks drink in front of him. He took a sip. Thank you darling. Any word on how the trial's going? I shook my head. I haven't had a chance to talk to Thea's since first thing this morning. She was so late getting home that I had to rush right over. No time to chat. I hope she'll get good news and soon she's not doing well. **** of a thing, but commiserated after another longer pool on his beer. Everyone knows Roxton fertilizer has a crummy safety record. All these loyal company men gave their heart and soul for the job and their lives. I added Riley ****** that Their widows have to file a lawsuit to get compensation. You got that right, babe, buck said, swigging his beer. I normally wouldn't let a customer call me, babe. But buck is over 60 nearly £300 and has no illusions. The door banged open again and I rolled my eyes and beat a hasty retreat, eager to put the bar between myself and my least favorite customer Janet? How the **** are you still shacking up with that grease monkey? I pursed my lips. Not that it's any of your business bill, but yes, Rick and I are still dating. You should kick his *** out eloped with me. I lifted an eyebrow. Sure I was gonna dump my man and run off with the kids so young he couldn't even buy liquor. Only a beer so green. He was still an apprentice to the mechanic who fixed the fertilizer plants trucks. If rick hears, you've been bugging me, he may kick your *** out all the way out of town. Now, are you going to stand there shooting the **** or do you want something to drink? Bill's face reddened, Michael. Oh, he muttered, slinking to the table while my other customers laughed. And who did Buck clapped a meaty hand onto bill's shoulder. I get it, man! If I was 20 years younger, I might make a play for her too. But you won't get anywhere with that. I surveyed my domain. A ****** dive bar and a tumble down shack at the edge of town. It's nothing fancy, but it kept body and soul together for myself and my daughter for nine years since I stumbled into town pregnant and alone, put my last 100 bucks on this crumbling garage and created a beloved, if somewhat less than respectable, place of business. My customers claimed they came here because Red's downtown was a little too fussy for folks with grease under their fingernails. To be fair, they were a bit rugged, but I didn't care. They helped a stranger in need now their family, best family I've ever had.