Excerpts: November 2002 Archives

“We were at Gerschon’s for over a day -- you couldn’t have taken a shower and washed your clothes?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Vikous said, taking another draw from his cigar.
Calliope raised her eyebrows. “What?” She looked over his rumpled, stained clothing. “Please don’t tell me that you melt if you come in contact with water or something, because that would be really stupid.”

I should be breaking through the 25k barrier on the story's word count today (probably before 5pm). Here's a recent snippet that made me chuckle:

Calliope did some quick calculation. "You're the most powerful... thing that I've seen since I've gotten involved in this mess."
"Oh, how you talk," Faegos said and smiled, tipping his oversized head bashfully as though receiving a compliment. He blinked his bulbous eyes. "Really, I am surprised. I was led to believe you were quite... coarse at times."
"I'm just trying to sort everything out," Calliope said. "See, if I eventually have something you want, and you want to bargain for it now, then it's probably dangerous to you."
The diminutive old man's smile vanished. "Go on."
Calliope turned her eyes toward the ceiling, musing. "What's to keep me from telling you to go fuck yourself, then waiting to find whatever you think I'm going to find and hunting you down like any other rat bastard?"
Faegos' face was grim. "I see I was not entirely misinformed as to your personality."
Calliope shrugged.

Hidden Things, Nov. 8 snippet that I liked:

At the security desk Vikous paused, his hands jammed in his coat pockets, the cigar leaking a thin line of smoke into the air from the corner of his mouth. The guard eyed them both suspiciously.
“Business?” he asked.
“Top floor. The party.” Vikous looked bored.
“Invitation,” the guard said, leaning forward with a hand extended. Vikous just looked at him. The guard settled back in his seat, his eyes hooded. “How do you know there’s a party if you don’t have an invitation?”
Vikous’ shiny black eyes watched the guard without moving. With slow deliberation, he pulled his right hand out of his pocket and laid it on the desk counter, leaning on it toward the guard as he said “Well, there would have to be a party, wouldn’t there?”
Calliope couldn’t see his face clearly from that angle but something in the guard’s face seemed to give way for just a moment, leaving his eyes showing white all the way around as he looked at Vikous.
“Second elevator on the right,” he said, his voice barely audible.

If you're interested in reading it as it comes out, go here.

Just a happy little TGIF gift, an excerpt from the last batch of stuff for Hidden Things:

"What's with the open window?"
“You smell like the parts of the coastline where birds have died.”
He shrugged. “Not a lot of bathing opportunities in my simple life.” He pulled out a mangled but mostly intact cigar from an inner pocket and pointed at a passing road sign. “Turn here. Mind if I smoke since we’re gonna die of pneumonia anyway?”
“Could you just shoot yourself in the chest instead?” she said without rancor, taking the exit he’d indicated. “I can tear your trachea out with my bare hands and rub asphalt on your tongue afterwards if that would help you get the buzz. Maybe I could leave your body lying on a pile of burning tires.”
He simply stared at her, then tucked the cigar away. “You have issues. You know this?”
“It’s been mentioned before,” she muttered.

Today, we learn how to deal with an assailant, with an example from the heroine of Hidden Things:

Calliope pointed at the lighted office window. Her heart hammered in her chest. “There's an armed policeman sitting right in there," she said. "You might want to call him for help.”

...and then the ass-kicking began. *curtsey*

As of right now I'm exactly on track for my word count but I'm sure to be behind come midnight tonight, since instead of being a good little boy and writing when I get home I'm going to the No Doubt/Garbage coliseum tour show.

So, the name of the story is Hidden Things:

She smiled in the darkness and pushed herself further underneath the comforter with the phone. “Hey you. I thought you’d be home and asleep by now. How was the trip?”
There was a short pause, the strange hiccuped silence of an interrupted cell connection. “A few things came up; I’m still out on the road, actually.”
“Oh cripes, really?” The bed frame creaked slightly at movement on the other side from Calliope. She half-glanced that direction and started to pull herself out of bed. “When... hang on, I’m switching phones.” She padded to opposite side of the room, found a cordless handset and turned it on as she hung the first phone up. “When do you think you’re going to get back?” As she spoke she headed for the door to the bedroom, grabbing a robe on the way.
“I’m... I’m not really sure. Everything’s pretty complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Yawning and still half-asleep, Calliope shuffled into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. “Espain pees.”
“Can’t. It’s too late to get into any of it, anyway. You going to be all right?”
She shrugged, still staring blankly into the refrigerator, “I’ll be fine; I’m in my own house, not bored out of my mind and crank-calling my friends at two a.m.”
She should hear him smile just a bit on the other end of the line. “You’re cranky. You should take a shower and wake up.”
She shook her head in mock denial, pushing hair out of her face. “See, this’s the main confusion in the conversation. I don’t want to wake up. I wasn’t actually laying in bed thinking ‘oh, I wish someone would call and give me a reason to get out of this nice warm bed, because I’m so bored’. I wasn’t thinking that or anything else. I wasn’t bored. I was asleep. It was good and I was enjoying it. I’d like to get back to it sometime tonight if possible.”
“So...” she could hear the smile broaden in his voice. “No shower?”

There's another snippet at WiD. If you want to read the thing while I write it, find my name on the right side of that page and click on "story".