Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Caspid Rides the Dawg

DAY: Wednesday
ATTITUDE: Trying for happiness
CARTOON CHARACTER OTD: Brian (I saw the one yesterday where he screwed the greyhound during the race and thought he was gonna be a dad, but it turned out to be Mr. Pewtershmidt’s puppies in the end.)
WISH FOR THE WEEK: That I win the lottery.

So, I’m feeling a little down lately about the fact that my novel keeps getting rejected. I know that if I could get someone with pull, power, and publishing prowess to read the whole thing, that it would sell. It’s got just about EVERYTHING in it.

I thought for today’s blog entry, I’d feature a humorous little bit in the middle of the book, and maybe see what you all think about it. Like, you could use the contact form on my website to tell me. Or if you’re my friend, you can call me. But don’t call me if you’re not my friend, because I’ll be so freaked out that you have my phone number that I won’t concentrate at all on what you say about my writing.

This is a scene where Caspid Marlboro, the unwitting hero of the story, is thoroughly freaked-out because he’s on his way to meet the leader of a global nation of invisible people that live on the Earth. He’s meeting his new friend Pixiloona’s dad. He’s renting a boat in Olympia, Washington to get out to the island in the Puget Sound where the Skallyfizzalian Capitol (in the form of a breathtaking, spectacular castle-fort) has stood for the past 12,000 years. It’s also the tippy-top of a secret Mermaid Fortress built by Enki, the creator of both Mer and Humankind. (It’s all quite crazy.)

But here is the scene. And I’d seriously like to hear from you about what you think. And no form rejection letters, please.

Caspid set out for the docks in the morning. He found the boat rental place easily.
“You mus’ be Casper,” said the grizzled old woman behind a grizzled old desk.
“Hi. It’s Caspid, actually.”
“Well, Mr. Actually, I have a boat for you. D’ya know how ta operate a boat?”
“Yes, I do, but I was hoping to have someone else drop me if I could.”
The woman looked at him. “We ain’t no charter service, Cupid. We rent boats. Ain’t no one gonna take you on a tour to look at the perty whales.”
Caspid smiled. “Alright, how much for a boat for a week?”
She calculated in her head, and punched random buttons on her ancient calculator. “Thousand fifty. Plus gas.”
“Alright, I’ll pay you fifteen hundred dollars for someone to take me to the southwest corner of Harstine Island and drop me off.”
“Deal.” She flashed a near-toothless grin, and punched a button on her intercom. “Ralphie! Getcher butt in here!” she yelled into the yellowed speaker.
Behind her, a boy rushed through the door. “Here I am, Mom!” he shouted.
“This here’s Custer, you take him to Harstine Island, and drop him off. Right now.”
“Okay, I’ll go get Wiley Dawg ready. Can I take The Dawg, Mama?”
“Jus’ git, take whatever boatcha want.”
Caspid handed her his credit card. She stared at it, flipped it, and said, “Says here yer name’s Caspid Marlboro. You use an alias?”
“Then why’d you tell me yer name was Carter?”
“I must have mumbled,” he said.
“Humph!” she harrumphed as she handed it back, having already run it through her machine. “Go out the door an’ ‘round the boathouse. You’ll see Ralphie.”Caspid signed the receipt and went out the door.


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