Does This Style Make Any Sense?

I just tried a new style of writing, and though it was really fun to do, I don’t know if it’s worth continuing like this.  I’ll probably finish the story anyway, but I might change the style.  Please tell me what you all think.  It’s kind of based on Huckleberry Finn, though I didn’t begin it with that in mind.

I am Joshua, son of none.  No, not like the guy from the Bible.  His dad was actually named Nun.  I don’t know what my dad’s name was.  Whatever it was, though, it doesn’t matter.  I never really belonged to him.  Same with my mom.  For some reason they didn’t want me, or couldn’t take care of me.  I don’t remember anything about them.  All I remember is growing up on the street.  Street life is fun – for some people.  More for guys than for girls.  More for big, strong guys than for skinny, scared kids like me.  It was okay, though.  I mean, I never had any chance to try anything else, so I couldn’t really say if it was worse than another type of life would have been.  But I can say it probably wasn’t better.  Anyway, It was a kind of fast life.  Not that there was much to do in a day, but to do it, I had to be fast, or they would catch me and take back what I’d gotten.  I don’t know why I didn’t let them catch me more often, come to think of it.  At least when they carted me off to the home for boys for a week or so I got something to eat, free.  But staying penned up never appealed to me much.  So I always ran, if I could.  They weren’t the only ones I ran from, either.  Like I said before, the big, tough guys had all the fun.  Sometimes that fun included chasing me.  I never could figure out if it would be an advantage to be bigger so I could fight them, or if it was an advantage to be small and fast, so I could run away.  But thinking too much in those days was a lot of unnecessary work.  Usually it was just a survival game, and thinking wasn’t worth much.  I don’t know how old I was then.  It really doesn’t matter, I guess.  Size mattered more than age in those days.  Funny, I remember so much from then, but I don’t have a bit of recollection about the most important day.  That’s probably because I was hit over the head first thing and wasn’t awake to notice anything to remember.  By the time I woke up, I was far away from anywhere I’d been before.  That is, I figured I was.  Kind of the reason I figured that was because the guys near me were dressed funny and talked some kind of gibberish.  I think it was actually Chinese, but I called it gibberish.  I don’t know why they talked Chinese, though.  They were blonde and tall with lots of muscles.  They didn’t look Chinese.  Come to think of it, nobody ever told me they were talking Chinese.  I just figured it was Chinese because somebody had told me Chinese sounded like gibberish, and what they were talking was definitely gibberish.  So I called it gibberish, and just forget about the Chinese.  It probably wasn’t Chinese.  I saw a calendar on the wall, and it had X’s over all the numbers up to the seventeen, and the twenty-one was circled.  That reminds me, there’s another reason why I should have let them catch me more often.  At the home for boys I had some lessons in reading and arithmetic.  If I had been there more often, I would have known it was a calendar, and that the day circled was four days from the day I was in then.  But I didn’t know that.  Like I said before, thinking wasn’t really necessary on the street, and so I didn’t bother my head about learning things like that.  So, I didn’t know what the calendar was for, but I looked at it for a while because it was the only thing to look at.  Besides the men, that is, who were still talking gibberish.  I didn’t want to look at them, because I had bad experience with looking at people.  Usually I ended up being chased.  And here, there wasn’t anywhere to run to, so it wouldn’t be very smart to get chased.  But that doesn’t really matter, does it?  Because, what happened next was much more interesting.  Well, what happened after what happened next.  Because what happened next was I was bonked on the head again.  When I woke up from that was when the interesting thing happened.  The interesting thing was a lady came in.  I was actually in a different place now.  The calendar wasn’t there anymore, or more exactly, I wasn’t where the calendar was anymore.  But the lady was there, and that was the important part.  The calendar wasn’t important.  At least, I didn’t know it was important then.  But anyway, the lady came in and told me to come with her.  I kind of figured that would be a good plan, since my head was pretty sore from the bonks.  The lady could have been Chinese, actually.  She was little, and pretty, and had shiny black hair.  That was funny, because she spoke English.  The other guys, who were blonde, were the ones who spoke Chinese.  I mean, gibberish.  It probably wasn’t Chinese, and she probably wasn’t Chinese either, because she spoke English.  I don’t know if Chinese people can speak English.  They probably can’t, because I’ve never met and English person who spoke Chinese.  Usually when somethings one way forwards, it’s the same way backwards.  This story really isn’t getting anywhere.  I’d better explain where the lady took me.  It wasn’t a very long walk.  We went outside for the walk, but then we went into a big building.  There were some more big blonde guys there.  They spoke gibberish too.  The lady didn’t speak to them.  She just listened.  Maybe she understood what they were saying.  She probably did.  After that we went to an elevator.  But I didn’t know it was an elevator.  It was a little room that kind of moved once the doors closed.  I had never been on an elevator before.  The reason I know it was an elevator was because the lady told me it was an elevator.  She didn’t smile very much, but her voice smiled.  When the doors opened she took me to a little room and told me to stay there.  Then she left.  I didn’t listen to her that time.  I wasn’t afraid of a bonk when there wasn’t anyone to bonk me.  So I went out of the room and to another room.  In that room was a girl a little older than me.  She looked scared at me.  I was scared, too, because she was pretty.  I had never met a pretty girl before.  I didn’t know what a pretty girl was.  But this girl was pretty and soft, and her hair was clean.  I thought only grown up ladies had clean hair.  But I guess not everybody lives the same way as they do on the street.  I don’t know why I was scared that she was pretty.  But, it must have been because it was different.  Anyway, after a few minutes of us both being scared she said “hi” and then I wasn’t scared anymore because she spoke English and not gibberish.  I asked her why she didn’t speak gibberish, and she said she didn’t know what gibberish was.  I told her I guessed it was Chinese.  She said she didn’t speak Chinese because she was American.  I didn’t know what American was, but I figured it was good because she smiled when she said it.  Then I asked her what was happening.  She said she didn’t know, but she would tell me if she found out.  I told her about the bonks, and she said she hadn’t got bonked, but somebody put something on her face that made her go to sleep.  I thought that was kind of cool, that they could do that, but I didn’t tell her that because she started to look scared again.  The lady came into the room then, and her voice didn’t smile very much when she told me to go back to the other room.  When I looked out the door this time I saw that she had one of those big men with her, so I guessed I had better do as she said.  I looked at the pretty girl again as I left and she looked pretty scared.  I wondered if I should be as scared as that, but I decided I shouldn’t.  It’s not fun being scared, and I could think better about what to do if I wasn’t scared.

Aaand, that’s as far as I’ve gotten.  I have a little more planned, but it’s hard to do the rambling style of speech while actually telling a story.  If anyone has advice on how to do this, or thoughts on if I should change the style, I’d like to hear anything you have to say.

@dekreel @jenwriter17 @waterlily @seekjustice @itisastarrynight @notawriter @radically-surrendered @anyone-else-and-those-I-forgot