April 9th, 2008

Introductions & an excerpt

Today I introduced myself in catrambo's intro post and also this one by blackaire. Pirates and cannibal miners! I know all the best people.

And while I'm behind on all my goals (I really have to stop giving in when people attempt to socialize with me), I'm still progressing on HoS:

Adrian chipped at his nailpolish, trying to think of a way to make it look like he hadn't thought of what he just thought of. “So, what passes for currency down here?”

“Many things, but mostly those previously owned by humans,” Ockopy said. He climbed some well-worn handholds to reach the mantel, where he retrieved a box of tea. Adrian perused it while the kettle heated.

The teas were in paper packets, their names written unevenly, but Adrian couldn't tell if it was part of the script or just bad handwriting. The symbols didn't actually make sense, but their meanings still blossomed in his mind. “How come I could understand Bratty McGee before anyone did any spells on my head?”

“It's one of the basic functions of Faerie. There are things here without mouths that communicate by smell or visual displays. Do you have anything to say that isn't a question?”

“No. What kind of previously owned things work for currency, and how much are they worth?” Adrian handed over his tea choice, which smelled vaguely like citrus and black liquorice, and while that wasn't exactly appetizing, it was better than the others. One of the teas smelled like B.O., and another smelled like turds from a dog who chugged Pine Sol.

9506 / 70000 words. 14% done!

400 word flash - Zoli's Mistake

It's The Daily Cabal's birthday, and jaylake gave them a one sentence prompt. In their honor, our writing group also used this prompt. Here's mine:
Zoli liked to hang around psychiatrists' waiting rooms to hit on the low self-esteem chicks. The pickings were slim today--he wasn't really into the MILF thing, not when he still lived with his mom. One fat little lunch lady held a leaky-eyed shih tzu, and the other middle-ager must have been there for marriage counseling with her corn-farmer husband, because they wore matching overalls. There was a fairly good-looking young man in a tight pink T-shirt, but Zoli didn't swing that way. No way.

Zoli had gotten up and was about to leave when God sent him an ugly woman with a broken heart.

She staggered in on spiked heels and checked in with the receptionist. As she tucked strands of dark hair behind her ear, she revealed a grey smear of tears and eyeliner, streaking down her cheek like the aftermath of a forest fire. Zoli strolled around, feigning as if he were stretching, until she settled in a chair by the corner table. A lamp poured light onto a pile of boring magazines, and as she dug through them, he seated himself in the other chair adjacent to the table.

“Hey, what's wrong?” Zoli asked. At her alarmed look, he began his pitch--half-whispered, so it sounded like he was being private when really he just didn't want the receptionist to realize he wasn't waiting for an appointment. “I'm getting my doctorate in psychotherapy and I'm studying Dr. Thurmond's techniques,” Zoli said. “There's two people ahead of you, but you look like you could use someone to talk to right now.”

Her forehead crumpled into worry lines, and wiped at her eyes with a bedraggled tissue. “My girlfriend is leaving me,” she said. “After two years!”

Zoli's pants shrank by a mystery integer. The equation for the unknown value was something like 36-24-36 x 2 divided by a weekend in a hotel with a jacuzzi. There was no reason for this nice lady to break up with her girlfriend. After all, if they couldn't get along, they could tuck Zoli between them as a buffer, and everything would be just fine.

“That's terrible,” he said sympathetically. “Maybe we can patch things up with...?”

She shook her head, sniffling. “Trina. No, it won't work. She said if I don't want my dick neither does she.”