Puppies, dogs and evil kittens
Hobo gloves compared with mittens
Hair care tips to fix your split-ends
Show co-stars of Connie Britton’s
Foods I want or need or crave
Parts that itch if I don’t shave
The definition of to blave
What the heck’s an autoclave?
Who first ate an artichoke?
What’s the second word Eve spoke?
Where did all those English folk
End up when they left Roanoke?
How to sort my DVDs
Why it’s cool to be bee’s knees
When they bait a trap with cheese
Should people taste it? Why are fleas?
Can jellyfish be broken-hearted?
Would the Buddha tell who farted?
Are there islands still uncharted?
Why’s my novel not yet started?
This guy you have to like finds out
A friend is in real trouble, so
He tells him, “Will I help? No doubt!”
The friend still ends up murdered, though,
So then this guy we like says, “What?
I have to clear his name!” ‘Cause, see,
The friend who’s dead was honest, but
Was framed for this, um, killing spree,
Or maybe not– how ’bout a theft?
Of art, or drugs, or…I know: Wine!
Expensive, rare–just one jug left
In all the world! Our guy says, “Fine,
I’ll prove my friend was not a crook
By calling on my special skill,
Which is… Can’t wait to read the book?
When NaNoWriMo’s done, you will!
(Or maybe not. I’m feeling ill.)
Attend the invisible monkeys, my brother
As bees in a wood they flog oats to each other
In smugly anhyphenate jingles they wuther
‘Til ennui descends and they glum home to mother
The Bad News: The NaNoWriMo train has left the station, but Flopsy and Mopsy are still on the platform, stuck for all time at an official word count of 16,208.
The Good(?) News: The Narrator desperately wants to help tell their story, because it’s been so desperately dull for the past 150-odd years…and things are about to get a lot odder. We just have to get through a bit more excruciating exposition: The Narrator.
Finally, some progress on the convergence of Flopsy, Mopsy, Helen and the Narrator: Everyone, Including the Narrator. Probably too late to meet the NaNoWriMo deadline, but that’s the way the banana crumbles (assuming, as always, a freeze-dried banana).
This was typed and posted entirely on my phone, so I apologize for the (lack of) formatting. Hope the link works, too. Mopsy, Flopsy, Helen, Flopsy and the Narrator. No, Not the Narrator. But Definitely Flopsy.
Again, not really worth reading. It’s just, “Moo. Moo.” and then, “Moo.” Really, just skip ahead to chapter 13. This is chapter 12: The Narrator