Chapter: 20
Page Count: 237
Word Count: 127,000
Nemo's Bounty: 998,000 Commercial
"Whatever the case may be, after a fortuitously well-aimed shoot shot and a six second skyrocketing ride twenty-two years too late to turn his spacer's stomach, Two-Bit Switch seeks nothing less than to track the Captain down, ascertain the truth and potentially boot him in the nuts."
I've been dogsitting and maybe, in the near future, literally dog-sitting.
A friend of mine's mother (with whom I've developed an odd rapport) has been out of town twice in the past two weeks and for an honestly exorbitant-on-my-part fee, I've been caring for her house, her mail and her dog - Nicolas, a one-foot canine that I'm told is some breed of terrier but I suspect of being little but a bark-machine.
He's barking right now. He was parking one minute, one hour, one day, one week ago. If he's done anything but bark or shit/pee/upchuck the carpet during both of these gigs, I've yet to witness it.
I understand. He's a dog. They bark. Especially terriers, evidently, and, truth be told, when he barks to be let outside, because he hears something outside, because he's hungry or because he can't find me, I
might be irritated, but I understand enough zoology to rationalize it. He's an animal. He has one means of communication and that's barking. Annoying, yes, but reasonable.
But Nicolas barks without impetus. He's standing here in the living room. Staring at me. Barking. He doesn't need to be let outside - I just brought him inside. He's literally barking for no discernable reason. If placed in a vacuum, with no outside stimuli, he'd still goddamn bark and after thirteen days, it's become fucking untenable. This is the human equivalent of your roommate walking aimlessly about your house yelling "Hey! Hey! Hey!" At least when Navi does that, there's a Deku Baba or something to fight.
It's reached the point where, as I was standing in the garage doorway while he was barking instead of the DIRE URINATION NEEDS he'd previously communicated to me, my lizard brain entertained notions of throwing nearby rocks at him. Dead serious. This dog has made me a monster.
On the other hand, I've been working, at least. Two thousand words written yesterday. Which is something, I guess. I'm scarce five pages from the end of the second act and, from there, only seven chapters and two interludes (effectively eight chapters) until she's finished. Her first draft anyway.
Then I'd have a novel. And possibly a dogskin hat.
Page Count: 237
Word Count: 127,000
Nemo's Bounty: 998,000 Commercial
"Whatever the case may be, after a fortuitously well-aimed shoot shot and a six second skyrocketing ride twenty-two years too late to turn his spacer's stomach, Two-Bit Switch seeks nothing less than to track the Captain down, ascertain the truth and potentially boot him in the nuts."
I've been dogsitting and maybe, in the near future, literally dog-sitting.
A friend of mine's mother (with whom I've developed an odd rapport) has been out of town twice in the past two weeks and for an honestly exorbitant-on-my-part fee, I've been caring for her house, her mail and her dog - Nicolas, a one-foot canine that I'm told is some breed of terrier but I suspect of being little but a bark-machine.
He's barking right now. He was parking one minute, one hour, one day, one week ago. If he's done anything but bark or shit/pee/upchuck the carpet during both of these gigs, I've yet to witness it.
I understand. He's a dog. They bark. Especially terriers, evidently, and, truth be told, when he barks to be let outside, because he hears something outside, because he's hungry or because he can't find me, I
might be irritated, but I understand enough zoology to rationalize it. He's an animal. He has one means of communication and that's barking. Annoying, yes, but reasonable.
But Nicolas barks without impetus. He's standing here in the living room. Staring at me. Barking. He doesn't need to be let outside - I just brought him inside. He's literally barking for no discernable reason. If placed in a vacuum, with no outside stimuli, he'd still goddamn bark and after thirteen days, it's become fucking untenable. This is the human equivalent of your roommate walking aimlessly about your house yelling "Hey! Hey! Hey!" At least when Navi does that, there's a Deku Baba or something to fight.
It's reached the point where, as I was standing in the garage doorway while he was barking instead of the DIRE URINATION NEEDS he'd previously communicated to me, my lizard brain entertained notions of throwing nearby rocks at him. Dead serious. This dog has made me a monster.
On the other hand, I've been working, at least. Two thousand words written yesterday. Which is something, I guess. I'm scarce five pages from the end of the second act and, from there, only seven chapters and two interludes (effectively eight chapters) until she's finished. Her first draft anyway.
Then I'd have a novel. And possibly a dogskin hat.
Until later.
- T
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