Hey? What? No Drabble?
Yeah, sorry, but I was finishing the last chapter of my new novel, Stone Cold Bastards, as well as prepping for GuildCon. BUSY ASS DAY!
So, instead, here’s a bawdy limerick! Enjoy!
There was a young maid from Madras
Who had a magnificent ass;
Not rounded and pink,
As you probably think –
It was grey, had long ears, and ate grass.
Disclaimer: This is an actual disclaimer. I didn’t write the limerick. Author is unknown. Phew. Feels good to get that off my chest.
Oh, that is right, my friends! The Party is back!
Before we jump into the mighty, mighty micro-fiction, hows about I announce a new audiobook? Yeah? Yeah!
In Perpetuity is now available in earhole format! Word of warning, though. There are lots and lots of naughty words in this audiobook. If you have tender ears, then it may not be the audiobook for you. But, if you dig space marines, intrigue, brutal violence, AND lots and lots of naughty words then this is ALL FOR YOU!
IN PERPETUITY WE LIVE!
IN PERPETUITY WE FIGHT!
IN PERPETUITY WE DIE!!
For two thousand years, Earth and her many colonies across the galaxy have fought against the Estelian menace. Having faced overwhelming losses, the CSC has instituted the largest military draft ever, conscripting millions into the battle against the aliens. Major Bartram North, Chief Training Officer on the CSC Training Station Perpetuity, has been tasked with the unenviable task of coordinating the military education of hundreds of thousands of recruits and turning them into troops ready to fight and die for the cause.
As Major North struggles to maintain a training pace that the CSC insists upon, he realizes something isn’t right on the Perpetuity. But before he can investigate, the station dissolves into madness brought on by the physical booster known as pharma. Unfortunately for Major North, that is not the only nightmare he faces- an armada of Estelian warships is on the edge of the solar system and headed right for Earth!
Major North has one chance to find out the truth, rescue the Perpetuity from its madness, and defend the Earth from attack, or all of humanity could be lost forever!
Now, on with the drabble!
The thing about deadlines is they are technically a line in the sand of work. You can put your toe right on that line, but once you go over you’re screwed. That can probably be said about any job in any profession in any business across the country. Hell, across the globe.
Except, in my job, there is an emphasis on the first part of the word. The “dead” part of deadline.
Which is why I’m where I am. Neck deep in cement while my bosses discuss my fate.
I think my performance review is about to include baseball bats.
Disclaimer: Batter up!
It’s Friday! Do you know where your Drabble is?
It’s right here!
Hey, but before we get into 100 words of beautiful, magical, chocolate-flavored fiction, how about I mention that Writing In Suburbia is back from its summer break? Yeah? Okay, I will!
Writing In Suburbia is back from its summer break! Listen to my take on being a pro writer while also living the suburban life. Good stuff for beginning writers, pro writers, those that want to be pro writers, and anyone interested in the biz. Join in!
Okay, on to the drabble!
Late Night Crowd
“That’s $7.50,” the clerk said, her hip cocked to the side, bored eyes watching the man across from her. “Hello?”
Trench coat. Hat pulled down shadowing his face. Leather gloves. Two colas and a bag of pork rinds on the counter.
“$7.50?” the man asked, his voice thin, reedy.
“Yeah,” the clerk said. She leaned forward and repeated, very slowly, “Seven. Fifty.”
“Oh,” the man said. “Sorry.”
He turned and shuffled away without his snacks.
“Weirdos,” the clerk said then the smell hit her and she leaned over the counter. “Great. Another slime trail. I hate the late night crowd.”
Disclaimer: Can I have the key to the bathroom?
This week I talk about what I did during the hiatus of this podcast. I explain how even though a writer never stops working, sometimes you can still recharge, relax, and let the world wash away. While still working. You know. Because the work never ends.
Also, apologies for the lame blues harp at the end. My lips just refused to work. It happens. Deal.
Bam diggity! It’s Friday once again!
Where’d the week go, yo? Time flew.
Hey! HEY! Guess what? I have some news! I just signed a 3 book deal with Bell Bridge Books! If you want to know more, check out my announcement yesterday and also feel free to listen to the latest episode of Writing In Suburbia. DO IT!
I now return you to your regularly scheduled Drabble.
The combatants circled each other.
Their weapons gleamed in the harsh sunlight as the sweat on their shoulders magnified the rays, the red turning to crimson skin already blistered badly. Neither man blinked, afraid the other would strike first.
No crowd. They’d left. The men only circled. The small crowd that had gathered got bored quickly. The first few minutes were exciting, but the second few not so much. Hours later, days later, the men still only circled.
The sun began to set. Again. It was if it had grown bored, finally calling it quits.
The combatants circled each other.