Friday, November 28, 2003

Fun with the Template

In case you hadn't noticed, I added a new item to the sidebar- Stories. Currently, this is completely useless. However, should I ever start multiple stories, this will link to the archive where a specific story begins. Also, I just wanted to see if I could do it.

Wednesday, November 26, 2003

TNT: Ch 6

Eric's day as not going much better. He'd gotten away from the cops once they were satisfied that he wasn't drunk, the owner of the tree didn't press charges, and the paramedics said Vlad was gonna be okay. His insurance agents, however, weren't helpful. Because the crash was a result of his Attention Deficit Disorder, his medical insurance and car insurance were each jumping on the chance to make the other one pay up, and he was the go-between. A few hours of this had used up his daytime minutes and his quarters, and it wasn't looking like he'd get a new car anytime soon.
After he'd squared everything away, he rode down to the junk heap in the tow truck that was taking his car away. He figured it would get him closer to Wheatfield, so there'd be a shorter walk to the hospital.
The junk heap was huge. He walked around, carrying the box of stuff that was once the contents of his car, marvelling at the place, and the facts of life it represented. Nothing lasts forever. Sooner or later, junk ends up here. Then he saw it: the remains of his old toaster.
"It can't be," he thought out loud, "This is Wheatsfield!"
But sure enough, it was. He knew that toaster anywhere. It was the chunk that had stayed together- half a slot, half the handle, the settings knob. It was singed from the explosion. But it still had the same evil look.
You can't get rid of me, it seemed to say, I exploded and ruined your kitchen, and the bitterness I left you with sent you on a stupid, reckless quest. You almost got someone killed. You thought you had the last word, but I'm still with you, and You Can't Get Rid Of Me.
But he could. Filled with rage at the appliance that had used him, was still using him, he drop kicked it. It soared across the junkyard fence.
"You haven't beaten me, toaster!" he shouted, "And you won't. I'm going to the hospital, and then I'm finishing my quest! I will find the perfect toaster!"
With that, he stormed out.
Two tow truck drivers were watching from afar.
"Y'know, Hank, It's a good thing he said he was going to the hospital."
"Yeah, but even so. When that toasters hits somebody, It's us'll get the blame."
"Ain't that just the way it is, Hank? Aint it?"
"Durn tootin', Jeb. Durn tootin'"

Monday, November 24, 2003

TNT: Ch 5

Gina was sitting in the front seat of the ambulance. They'd said mild concussion. That meant things could still turn out ok. She could have left; she wasn't involved in this. She'd met these guys an hour ago, and she had left things before that were much closer to her. But right now, she was needed. Eric had to talk to the police; they suspected he was drunk or asleep at the wheel. She wondered herself. When he went off the road he was just staring straight ahead.
Well, anyway, she felt someone should be with Vlad when he woke up. She was almost looking forward to seeing what the guys would do once they reached Wheatfield. Well, they'd never reach it now.
"We're here, Miss. Wheatfield Community Hospital," the driver informed her.
Or not.
"We're taking your friend inside. You should come; you might need to sign some things."
They moved inside. She signed some papers, even though she didn't know if she had any right to. Attempts to contact Vlad's family had been fruitless, so there was no one else. She went outside to the waiting room. What a name, she thought, what a perfectly ironic name for a room. She sat down and waited.

Sunday, November 23, 2003

A note about short chapters

I've decided not to try to write book length chapters. For me, a chapter is a scene. A split chapter is only if I've run out of time to write a complete thought. So basically, a chapter is an entry, an entry is a chapter, and that's okay.

TNT: Ch. 4

Five miles later, everything suddenly caught up with Eric. Gina was talking to Vlads about the finer points of the Atlantic Cod, when it hit him.
'This morning, I was buying a toaster. I never liked my old toaster. It was mean. At least I thought it was mean. When did I start thinking it had a personality? Oh well. I did start thinking it and that's what got me here. Here, in my car, with a strange, possibly crazy Norwegian man with a Russian name and an equally strange, though admittedly better looking hitchhiker, on my way to a toaster factory, to ask them deep questions about toaster nature. What happened to my sanity? What happened to my normal life?'
"What happened to the road and why are we headed into a tree!?!" Gina interrupted.
Unfortunately it was too late. He slammed on the brakes, but felt the jolt as the car impacted with the tree, and the billowing airbag in his face. Everything slowed down, as the car reeled back from the impact. He saw Gina out of the corner of his eye, she looked fine, but Vlad had blood streaming down his face. 'Oh No,' thought Eric, 'What have I done?'