It's been raining cats and dogs all day. Cold, wet days always make me want to hunker in, preferably under a nice warm blankie on the sofa. I resisted the urge, though. I had worlds to conquer and things to do. Well, things to do, at any rate.
I've spent a lot of time today just pondering. Not, mind you, staring aimlessly at the walls with a vacant look in my eyes. Not I. No, I was plotting. Not against you. I found the notes on the new novel I'm ready to start (some of them, anyway; I think there are more somewhere). I've been thinking (and I mean hard enough to give me a headache) about the best approach to take. The POV. Which angle to focus the most attention on. How best to lead up to the seminal event -- and how to handle the aftermath. I'm not yet satisfied with my conclusions, but it's progress -- after a fashion. I know that I can just start writing and work out the kinks later. I may do that.
Roxan, albeit she's enmeshed in a very sad family situation presently (please send some good vibes her way), rounded up a list of Words Gone Wild. They're now being costumed and made up to star in another something less than hair-raising Storytime With Twisted Linguistics.
The cast members:
ROSE MARIE'S BABY
Rose Marie was a village girl out for a stroll one evening. The temperature was beloow zero so she felt like there would be no boogeymen out and about and she'd be fine. Not.
Before she even knew what hit her, Rose Marie was cought and carried off by the Big Unclean Spirit, Kopdac. He married her in an unspeakably unholy ceremony at midnight and then turned her loose. To anyone who would inquirere of Rose Marie about her obvious pregnancy which manifested itself a few months later, she would say only that it was not true. Her weight gain was caused by the Sweedish diet she was on.
"I am a good girl! Do notlob such insults at me!" she would cry to her colegues in publiv.
In private, Rose Marie intuited the truth of her condition, and she was desolate. There was, alas, no one in whom she could confide outside of the woodland gouphers who were her friends. There was no verb (or adverb, adjective, gerund, or anything else) in her wordrobe to express the depths of her dread and fear.
And then came the time when Rose Marie was delivered of her heavy burden -- a healthy and very large dancing baby boy. He neither cried nor whined as long as the music played and he could dance.
"Goup!" the child would scream when the music stopped. And Rose Marie would move quickly to find him another CD.
A neighbor once came and rapped hard upon Rose Marie's door, demanding that she turn down the music.
"I'm calling a kop on all dac noise!" the man threatened indignantly.
At that point, the child danced into the doorway and froze the man in his tracks with the weird, undulating rays emanating from his eyes.
"Someeople shouldn't have kids," the man muttered as he stumbled his way home, having already forgotten the reason for his visit to Rose Marie's.
And the baby danced on. Rose Marie taught him everything she knew about makeup and wordrobe and he grew up to be the star attraction in a roadshow of 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show.'