You Can't Place a Price on Revenge (On)

Hello, bonjour gutentag, aloha, etc.
First time posting here, and all that stuff. Also, this is the first time actually posting something that I've actually written, except for poetry. Just think of everything the other new people said and apply that to me. Unless, of course, it was stupid. Then bear in mind that I did NOT actually say it. Thank you. So, constructive criticism, and all that. Also, expressions of delight and/or feelings of worship are nice.

Now, here's a warning: I'm writing this story in my usual style, which is to just make it up as I go, with no further point other than to continue the story. So whatever it turns out to be, that's what it'll end up being. Heh. So if it ends up silly, serious, depressing, or plain horrible, it was just meant to be. So there.
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You Can't Place a Price on Revenge
He grinned. What would come next would be... entertaining. Well, entertaining to him. Maybe not to Salash. Which was, after all, the point. Ah, the revenge would indeed be sweet. Even if it was costing him a fortune. He grinned again. Ah well, he thought, I've got the money to spare. And then began to set up the drinks for the meeting. The plates, glasses, silverware. It was a luncheon, he thought, that would not soon fade from the current patron's memory.
Slowly, delicately, he poured the beautiful white wine. It was from the crop of 143. Good year for white wine, but the red was particularly bad. Then, still, always, with that perpetual grin, he poured the slender bottle from the alchemy into Salash's drink. And sat down to wait. He didn't have to wait long though. Within minutes he saw the hulking form of Salash 'All Brawn, No Brains' Sturling.
He smiled ingraciatingly at Salash and said, in a calm, friendly voice, "Sit down my friend, and share a glass of congratulatory wine with me."
They both raised their glasses to the roof, and Salash said, "To the winner of the contest over Araminia! Me! And to the loser! Dalan. Why, that's You!"
Dalan grinned, and said, "No lack of modesty, have you, my dear Salash? Down we go!"
They both downed their respective glasses of wine. Suddenly, Salash began to choke, and turn green. And even when he stoppied choking, he still was green. And, he was getting greener. Dalan smiled, and stood up. "To the future winner of Araminia's heart," he said. "Me." And he strode out of the inn. This, he thought, might be a good time to visit with Araminia.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And there you have it. What a heart-touching story!

Edit: Paragraphs.

Hello, bonjour gutentag, aloha, etc.
First time posting here, and all that stuff. Also, this is the first time actually posting something that I've actually written, except for poetry. Just think of everything the other new people said and apply that to me. Unless, of course, it was stupid. Then bear in mind that I did NOT actually say it. Thank you. So, constructive criticism, and all that. Also, expressions of delight and/or feelings of worship are nice.

Welcome to the Attic, m'dear. (I'm seeing so many new faces!)

Now, here's a warning: I'm writing this story in my usual style, which is to just make it up as I go, with no further point other than to continue the story. So whatever it turns out to be, that's what it'll end up being. Heh. So if it ends up silly, serious, depressing, or plain horrible, it was just meant to be. So there.

Don't warn people about the way you write. It starts you off on a bad foot because they expect to find something that requires a warning. Save your warnings for content, like swearing, sexual things, or gratuitous violence, and don't shoot your story in the foot before the race starts.

He grinned. What would come next would be... entertaining. Well, entertaining to him. Maybe not to Salash. Which was, after all, the point. Ah, the revenge would indeed be sweet. Even if it was costing hime a fortune. He grinned again. Ah well, he thought, I've got the money to spare. And then began to set up the drinks for the meeting. The plates, glasses, silverware. It was a luncheon, he thought, that would not soon fade from the current patron's memory.

'him' I think you mean.

Slowly, delicately, he poured the beautiful white wine. It was from the crop of 143. Good year for white wine, but the red was particularly bad. Then, still, always, with that perpetual grin, he poured the slender bottle from the alchemy into Salash's drink. And sat down to wait. He didn't have to wait long though. Within minutes he saw the hulking form of Salash 'All Brawn, No Brains' Sturling.

Make this bit it's own paragraph for easier reading.

He smiled ingraciatingly at Salash and said, in a calm, friendly voice, "Sit down my friend, and share a glass of congratulatory wine with me."

paragraph again.

They both raised their glasses to the roof, and Salash said, "To the winner of the contest over Araminia! Me! And to the loser! Dalan. Why, that's You!"

Ah... so this is what the revenge is about. *sigh* men are silly creatures, always fighting over us women. Oh, and put another paragraph in here.

Dalan grinned, and said, "No lack of modesty, have you, my dear Salash? Down we go!"

This Dalan is a real two-faced fellow isn't he? (you guessed it, paragraph here)

They both downed their respective glasses of wine. Suddenly, Salash began to choke, and turn green. And even when he stoppied choking, he still was green. And, he was getting greener. Dalan smiled, and stood up.

I would also make this it's own paragraph.

"To the future winner of Araminia's heart," he said. "Me." And he strode out of the inn.

Hah! What a nice guy (not!)

This, he thought, might be a good time to visit with Araminia.

A lovely little ending, and a great little revenge story. I really enjoyed it. The only thing I have to say is from a grammar perspective, and that is that each time a new speaker begins to talk, and each time there's a shift in the subject you ought to begin a new paragraph (and if you did and the board is just a big pain in the butt and didn't show it you can shoot me, and save yourself the pain of anyone bringing it up again and just put a space between paragraphs.) Admittedly, some very famous books I've read have been lacking what is generally considered the proper placement of paragraphs, but unfortunately, you're not as famous as Joseph Conrad yet.

And there you have it. What a heart-touching story!

quite!

Good job,
-Blue

When I began writing this, at about eleven at night, I put a paragraphs in in it. Then, realizing that I had no clue what I was doing, re-read the story, and figured out that I'd used them all wrong. So I removed all paragraphs, intending to add them back in, and found out that I was tired. So I didn't. And there, in a nutshell, is my reason. (Also, 'tab' doesn't work for indenting on the board.)