Great Gatsby Scene Rewrite
Scene:Tom slaps Myrtle for saying Daisy’s name
It was late and the party moved from the living room to the patio and kitchen. The photographer was lying on the floor in the corner of the living room. He was a large man, standing at about 6 feet. From his appearance and the way he fell in asleep so agilely in, I gathered that he probably hadn't slept in days. From the drool rolling down from his mouth, I could tell it was one of those deep sleeps. Like the ones you use to escape the world. He had been like this for an hour or so. It bothered me but there was nothing I could do about it so I put a towel over his face.
The cat Chris had bought earlier was sitting comfortable on Karrueche's plush white rug.
It looked undisturbed by its surroundings. Smoke, obnoxious laughter, and slurred words filled the room. The door seemed to be revolving. People entered, left, met people, made plans, lost each other, found other, and lost each other again. I found myself enjoying the party after a couple of drinks and an entertaining conversation with a girl I met named Ariana. We were talking about something but I can’t really remember what because our conversation was abruptly interrupted by loud yelling.
“Rihanna, Rihanna, Rihanna!” shouted Karrueche in an impassioned tone. “I’ll say her name whenever I want! Rih.”
What happened next didn’t really surprise me. This was usual behavior for Chris and his women. In one swift motion, Chris Brown broke Karrueche's nose with his open hand.
There was blood all over the rug which was very unfortunate because it was white and probably expensive. I remember women scolding in shrill tones using profane language followed by heavy sobs. The photographer awoke from his sleep and started towards the door. To this day
I wonder how he managed to sleep through all the commotion and awake seemingly unbothered.
He stopped before he reached the door and took in the scene. His girlfriend was on the floor
holding
It was late and the party moved from the living room to the patio and kitchen. The photographer was lying on the floor in the corner of the living room. He was a large man, standing at about 6 feet. From his appearance and the way he fell in asleep so agilely in, I gathered that he probably hadn't slept in days. From the drool rolling down from his mouth, I could tell it was one of those deep sleeps. Like the ones you use to escape the world. He had been like this for an hour or so. It bothered me but there was nothing I could do about it so I put a towel over his face.
The cat Chris had bought earlier was sitting comfortable on Karrueche's plush white rug.
It looked undisturbed by its surroundings. Smoke, obnoxious laughter, and slurred words filled the room. The door seemed to be revolving. People entered, left, met people, made plans, lost each other, found other, and lost each other again. I found myself enjoying the party after a couple of drinks and an entertaining conversation with a girl I met named Ariana. We were talking about something but I can’t really remember what because our conversation was abruptly interrupted by loud yelling.
“Rihanna, Rihanna, Rihanna!” shouted Karrueche in an impassioned tone. “I’ll say her name whenever I want! Rih.”
What happened next didn’t really surprise me. This was usual behavior for Chris and his women. In one swift motion, Chris Brown broke Karrueche's nose with his open hand.
There was blood all over the rug which was very unfortunate because it was white and probably expensive. I remember women scolding in shrill tones using profane language followed by heavy sobs. The photographer awoke from his sleep and started towards the door. To this day
I wonder how he managed to sleep through all the commotion and awake seemingly unbothered.
He stopped before he reached the door and took in the scene. His girlfriend was on the floor
holding