So I've been writing a new story where the protagonist is a ghost working as a guardian angel/poltergeist, depending on choices made, but I want it to be better then my 2016 story, Halloween Fright. One of the main complaints about that story, aside from its' length, is that in certain scenes, the story is overtly graphic and vulgar without contributing to the plot, like something a 12-year-old edgelord virgin would write. Therefore, I'd like to share an excerpt from my new story, explaining how our protagonist ended up dead in the first place, and get some feedback as to whether or not it sounds like something that could be reasonably entertaining in a story without actually taking away from the story. So, here it is:
It all happened so fast.
Once upon a time, everything had been normal. You had a beautiful wife, a high-paying insurance job, a house in the suburbs, the real American dream. You were happy. You were content.
But your wife sure as fuck wasn't! At least, that's what she told you when you came home to find her being railed from both ends by the local Mormon missionaries! Then one of the bastards had the fucking nerve to look up at you from YOUR couch, while still inside YOUR wife, and say the words that lead you on the path you are today:
"Um... good evening, sir. Would you like to hear about the teachings of Joseph Smith?"
Screaming in outrage and swearing obscenities, you stormed into the kitchen, and began dialing the police.
"What are you doing?" your wife shrieked, running in after you.
"What am I doing?" you yelled back. "I'm getting the Mormon fucks that banged my wife out of my house!"
"How dare you! They're missionaries of God!"
"Oh yeah, they seem real fucking charitable! Real paragons of virtue, those two!"
"I HATE YOU!" your wife screamed. "You never show me any affection or take me anywhere anymore! You're working all the goddamn time!"
"Yeah!" you yelled back. "To pay for the house that you apparently fuck Mormons in, you shallow whore!"
With that, your not-so-faithful wife threw your wedding ring down the drain. Fitting, seeing as how in a way, that ring was the symbol of your marriage. You should've just walked away, grabbed your things, beat up the fucking Mormons with your trusty baseball bat you kept under the bed, and left your wife forever.
But that ring cost three grand! So, like a complete dumbass, you stuck your arm down the drain while screaming at your wife about how that ring was more expensive then her sorry ass. Your wife, having a complete mental breakdown, did the ultimate bitch move yet.
She turned on the garbage disposal.
"ARGGGGGGGHHHHH!" you scream.
"I FUCKED THE MAILMAN TOO!" your wife screams.
"HOLY SHIT! I'M GETTING OUT OF HERE!" one of the Mormons scream.
And that's the last thing you knew.