Ugh. Week Three does not appear to be any better than Week Two. I am hoping to get to 30,000 words today, as I got behind over the weekend. Chloe is no closer to figuring out where Juliet is, but luckily I was able to write in what is sure to be in EsNoWriMo novels for years to come. Chloe was just approached by a man in a trench coat who tried to sell her cronuts for $20 each. I can't explain the ending of this excerpt; it happened during Indigo's introduction to the Dwson's Creek oeuvre.
The man that Chloe did not know to be named Bobby Roberts walked away, giving her a confused look. He too had expected her to accost him and force him to give away details that he did not want to give, and he was surprised that he was getting off so easy. All things considered, he considered himself lucky. But, lucky he was not. Instead of being strong-armed into re-examining his life of buying a lot of cronuts and selling them out of a trench coat like he was some kind of flasher, he was able to continue his way of life until things dramatically changed course. Unfortunately for him that change of course was his death, since he was stabbed by someone who did not want to pay twenty dollars per cronut. Well, perhaps saying that he was stabbed does not quite capture what happened on his last night alive. In response to the high prices and low availability of cronuts, one vigilante cronut lover, George Scott, decided to throw a snowball at the target of his rage. It wasn’t just any snowball, oh no. This was no playground feud; it was a cronut feud. George Scott liked cronuts, but he didn’t like the long line-ups at the bakery. He didn’t like people very much, for that matter, so when he left his apartment where he worked from home on his business that turns people’s ashes into diamond rings, he was already on edge. His edginess did not improve when a man approached him in a back alley, offering to sell him exactly what it was that he had left his apartment to find: cronuts. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t getting any orders for his diamonds made out of dead people, which was leaving him low on funds. It also could have been the fact that his Afghanistan War re-enactment group had cancelled their meeting that night, and he had been quite looking forward to channelling some of his impotent rage into the re-enactment all week. There was a great deal of tension in the group as to which War in Afghanistan they should be re-enacting; there was strong support for the Soviet war in the eighties, of course, but a growing faction was becoming enthusiastic about re-enacting an ongoing war, as they wanted to re-enact the War in Afghanistan before it is cool. George Scott could see the merits of both sides, but he still favoured re-enacting the Soviet War in Afghanistan.
No one is quite sure of the reason, but when Bobby Roberts fatefully turned away from yet another person who thought that twenty dollars per cronut was too steep, George Scott packed a snowball with something unusual: a knife. It was a knife that he had been planning on bringing to the Afghanistan War re-enactment meeting to show off, and he wanted to put it to good use. Unfortunately, putting a knife in a snowball is not putting it to good use. The snowball was heavier than a typical snowball so it hurt a little more, but as one would expect, the knife was unable to penetrate his thick leather coat because it was not pointing in the right direction. Throwing knife snowballs is not particularly accurate. Angered even further by this failed attempt at murder, George Scott brutally stabbed Bobby Roberts; he stabbed him seventeen times, because seventeen just seemed like a good number. The obvious choice was to then convert his body to a diamond ring, which he did with pleasure. The Toronto cronut black market took quite the hit that day.
Chloe, of course, could not have known the misfortune that was about to befall Bobby Roberts. Had she known, she might have encouraged him to take a different path in life, since a path that leads to being hit by a snowball with a knife in it, and then being stabbed with the knife that had previously bounced off ineffectually, was no path to be on. Instead, she walked home dejectedly, wishing that she had prepared herself better for the tasks that lay ahead. If she had known that she would have to solve a crime such as this, she would have read detective novel after detective novel. She would have watched all of the crime movies, taking in everything that they had to teach her about how to solve a mystery. The part that made her feel the worst was how little she was finding out that she knew about Juliet. Juliet had a boyfriend of ten years that Chloe knew nothing about. She had no idea where her family was, who her friends were, or any other important life detail that could give her some insight into where she might have gone. She felt like a terrible detective, and a terrible friend.
At night, Chloe tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When sleep finally came, her dreams were troublesome and strange, much like how you dream when you have a fever. Weirdly, in her dreams she could not tell where Dawson Leery ended and where she began. She was wearing baggy khakis and an oversized plaid shirt with all of the buttons undone. It was impossible for her to stop talking about how smart she is, and how she talks like she is older than she really is. Chloe frequently misuses the word “deconstruct,” but since most people she knows have never read Jacques Derrida, it goes unnoticed. Whenever she had a problem, Chloe liked to look to a Spielberg movie for the solution. Someone had once accused her of having obsessive reality disorder, but she informed them that it clearly wasn’t a real disorder, which was a great way to treat the disorder. She would often ask people that if sex is so important, why has Spielberg never had a sex scene in any of his movies? No one seemed satisfied by this point, to which she would often exasperatedly cry out “Sex, sex, sex! Everyone is too obsessed with sex!”, sometimes to her own father. Despite this assertion, she would also sometimes make deals with people where she would do what they wanted if they said the word “penis.” Clearly, Chloe was making everyone uncomfortable. Even Spielberg outgrew his Peter Pan syndrome. Again, not a real disorder. She wasn’t sure why everyone was always trying to diagnose her with fake disorders. When she awoke she had a strange urge to write an obviously biographical self-indulgent script and pass it off as art. Luckily for humans with eyes she was able to resist the urge.
The man that Chloe did not know to be named Bobby Roberts walked away, giving her a confused look. He too had expected her to accost him and force him to give away details that he did not want to give, and he was surprised that he was getting off so easy. All things considered, he considered himself lucky. But, lucky he was not. Instead of being strong-armed into re-examining his life of buying a lot of cronuts and selling them out of a trench coat like he was some kind of flasher, he was able to continue his way of life until things dramatically changed course. Unfortunately for him that change of course was his death, since he was stabbed by someone who did not want to pay twenty dollars per cronut. Well, perhaps saying that he was stabbed does not quite capture what happened on his last night alive. In response to the high prices and low availability of cronuts, one vigilante cronut lover, George Scott, decided to throw a snowball at the target of his rage. It wasn’t just any snowball, oh no. This was no playground feud; it was a cronut feud. George Scott liked cronuts, but he didn’t like the long line-ups at the bakery. He didn’t like people very much, for that matter, so when he left his apartment where he worked from home on his business that turns people’s ashes into diamond rings, he was already on edge. His edginess did not improve when a man approached him in a back alley, offering to sell him exactly what it was that he had left his apartment to find: cronuts. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t getting any orders for his diamonds made out of dead people, which was leaving him low on funds. It also could have been the fact that his Afghanistan War re-enactment group had cancelled their meeting that night, and he had been quite looking forward to channelling some of his impotent rage into the re-enactment all week. There was a great deal of tension in the group as to which War in Afghanistan they should be re-enacting; there was strong support for the Soviet war in the eighties, of course, but a growing faction was becoming enthusiastic about re-enacting an ongoing war, as they wanted to re-enact the War in Afghanistan before it is cool. George Scott could see the merits of both sides, but he still favoured re-enacting the Soviet War in Afghanistan.
No one is quite sure of the reason, but when Bobby Roberts fatefully turned away from yet another person who thought that twenty dollars per cronut was too steep, George Scott packed a snowball with something unusual: a knife. It was a knife that he had been planning on bringing to the Afghanistan War re-enactment meeting to show off, and he wanted to put it to good use. Unfortunately, putting a knife in a snowball is not putting it to good use. The snowball was heavier than a typical snowball so it hurt a little more, but as one would expect, the knife was unable to penetrate his thick leather coat because it was not pointing in the right direction. Throwing knife snowballs is not particularly accurate. Angered even further by this failed attempt at murder, George Scott brutally stabbed Bobby Roberts; he stabbed him seventeen times, because seventeen just seemed like a good number. The obvious choice was to then convert his body to a diamond ring, which he did with pleasure. The Toronto cronut black market took quite the hit that day.
Chloe, of course, could not have known the misfortune that was about to befall Bobby Roberts. Had she known, she might have encouraged him to take a different path in life, since a path that leads to being hit by a snowball with a knife in it, and then being stabbed with the knife that had previously bounced off ineffectually, was no path to be on. Instead, she walked home dejectedly, wishing that she had prepared herself better for the tasks that lay ahead. If she had known that she would have to solve a crime such as this, she would have read detective novel after detective novel. She would have watched all of the crime movies, taking in everything that they had to teach her about how to solve a mystery. The part that made her feel the worst was how little she was finding out that she knew about Juliet. Juliet had a boyfriend of ten years that Chloe knew nothing about. She had no idea where her family was, who her friends were, or any other important life detail that could give her some insight into where she might have gone. She felt like a terrible detective, and a terrible friend.
At night, Chloe tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When sleep finally came, her dreams were troublesome and strange, much like how you dream when you have a fever. Weirdly, in her dreams she could not tell where Dawson Leery ended and where she began. She was wearing baggy khakis and an oversized plaid shirt with all of the buttons undone. It was impossible for her to stop talking about how smart she is, and how she talks like she is older than she really is. Chloe frequently misuses the word “deconstruct,” but since most people she knows have never read Jacques Derrida, it goes unnoticed. Whenever she had a problem, Chloe liked to look to a Spielberg movie for the solution. Someone had once accused her of having obsessive reality disorder, but she informed them that it clearly wasn’t a real disorder, which was a great way to treat the disorder. She would often ask people that if sex is so important, why has Spielberg never had a sex scene in any of his movies? No one seemed satisfied by this point, to which she would often exasperatedly cry out “Sex, sex, sex! Everyone is too obsessed with sex!”, sometimes to her own father. Despite this assertion, she would also sometimes make deals with people where she would do what they wanted if they said the word “penis.” Clearly, Chloe was making everyone uncomfortable. Even Spielberg outgrew his Peter Pan syndrome. Again, not a real disorder. She wasn’t sure why everyone was always trying to diagnose her with fake disorders. When she awoke she had a strange urge to write an obviously biographical self-indulgent script and pass it off as art. Luckily for humans with eyes she was able to resist the urge.
Good lord that was a bizarre entry. But how ingenious to have Bobby Roberts murdered, cremated, then turned into a diamond ring! It's the perfect crime! Frankly I'm surprised that this plot hasn't shown up yet on Castle ;)
ReplyDeleteI love the little detours you've been taking so far in this novel, the peeks into other people's lives. It definitely fleshes out the world you're creating. I also thought this dream sequence captured how bizarre dreams can be. You know things are getting bad for Chloe when she can't tell where Dawson Leery ends and she begins.
Fave line: "The Toronto cronut black market took quite the hit that day."
I can't stop laughing. That Dawson's Creek paragraph was really fucking hilarious and although I was sad about the person being stabbed 17 times, the whole description of the Afghanistan war re-enactment group and the turning ashes into diamond rings thing was so so so so funny.
ReplyDeleteOMG this is incredible.
ARGH... I just wrote a long comment and then clicked on 'Sign Out' instead of 'Publish'. Does anyone have any idea why that button is there? Anyway, what I said was that this was a hilarious excerpt. Every single line was so funny. There are so many things to love about the excerpt, it is impossible to single anything out, but the Dawson Leery dream was HILARIOUS. Well done, Katie. This novel is off the rails and I AM LOVING IT!
ReplyDeleteI was so happy to see the knife in the snowball show up. For those of you who have not yet been able to work in this strange literary device, consider using it as a metaphor. For example, "it was an unpleasant surprise, much like a knife in a snowball."
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this so much, not the least because almost everything in the dream sequence actually happened in the first episode of Dawson's Creek. And I just don't want to wait for my life to be over.
I just re-read this and my favorite line is, "Again, not a real disorder." I don't know why but it is just so funny.
ReplyDelete