May 2, 2014

Getting inspired by feeling inspired --- This is heaven (teaser)

It's getting worse. This isn't even a teaser, it's a teaser of a teaser---the sex in this chapter is so bad, we have to hide it somewhere (here) until further notice. So, we're at the beginning of Chapter 17, John just got a call from Maurice who's tasked writing the questions for the trivia-day of the festival, but Maurice has a writer's blog ... The previous chapter was about last night's flame-hot sex between Brigittå, the accomplished romance-novel author and Ben, who had been tricked by Alex into ... okay, Ben, the ravishing black guy from the first part. The last chapter also saw Romeo (moniker) and Juliette reunited, and then saw them off to Juliette's hotel room. Taylor is one of Juliette's friends. 

The cell-phone rings.

It’s Maurice. He’s stuck. Writer’s block. He can’t think of any decent trivia questions. Nothing with a snap-your-finger feel. “Does it matter?” I ask.
“Certainly,” he says, “that’s why we are in the business of writing, isn’t it, to feel inspired, and by feeling inspired getting inspired, and by getting inspired feeling more inspired, and so on.”
“You sound like an expensive graduate course of something,” I say.

(He falls silent.)

“I’m sorry,” I say, “I apologize. I went too far.”
“Okay,” he says, affecting something of an American accent (he’s British).
“The trivia. Think of it as a commission. Quick and dirty. Deadline approaching, copy editor leering over your shoulder.”
“Well, nobody’s leering over my shoulder.”
“Ben still asleep?”
“Ben is still asleep.”
“Hold the line,” I say.

Bob Bienpensant: You go first

Hold the line, I say, because Juliette’s friends are upon us, yesterday’s prep punks, the very children of vampire trivia.
“Hold the line,” I repeat.

“We missed you yesterday,” Alex has already said to them. Well, they had been busy finding accommodation and stuff, somebody had sent them on a wild goose chase for a motel without GPS address and they got lost behind the Okefenokee swamp. They’ve rented tents now, on a camping ground nearby (they don’t laugh at Alex’s crotch shorts because they are too busy sharing their own misery).

Juliette, have we seen her? No, we haven’t, we have no idea that Juliette is losing her virginity as we speak, possibly in a really beautiful way to a really beautiful kid who calls himself Romeo, can you believe this, this only happens in soap operas written by the washed-up screenwriter. But it does happen, against all odds, statisticians the world over rejoice. We have no idea.

“Today,” I say a bit out of turn, “today is your day.”
“Trivial pursuit,” I say, “vampire trivia.” I wave my copy of the program to cover the hiding of an active, connected cell phone in a pocket of my shorts. “You’re into this, aren’t you?”

No, they are not. They are serious.
“Serious vampires?”—Alex.
Some laugh. They are lightly dressed today, tank tops and shorts, no undead paraphernalia. Even Taylor’s fangs have disappeared.
“Give us some ideas, we need to spruce up this market stand a bit. The latest trends,” Alex says to Taylor.

Taylor isn’t particularly handsome, if anything he looks like a good candidate for serious nerd-dom, somebody who ought to know about this. And he looks, yes---I’m sure he’s homophobic in part because he has begun considering sex with guys as a substitute for sex with Zoey and Kaylee and all the other gals unwilling to hook up with preordained nerds---Taylor says: “Well, you know about the Meyer paradigm shift.”

He did, yes, he did notice. Fuck you, I think, fuck you. My own erection from Brigitta’s Ben-sex is still in place.

Alex mumbles something about paradigm shifts by some Kuhn, some Thomas Kuhn.
“You’re selling the uncoolest Hammer merchandise and don’t even know about Meyer,” Taylor replies.
Alex shakes his head.
“You haven’t read Twilight, right. Stephenie Meyer is the author behind the franchise.”
“Stephenie Meyer,” we say as if we're somewhat concerned. “And the paradigm shift?”
“The shift to daylight saving time. We are no longer confined to coffins during office hours. We live normal lives now, just have to watch our ass because of the skin. How it sparkles in the sunlight.”
“Like yours,” Alex says.
“Like mine,” Taylor replies, raising his chin, turning his cheek. He’s quite good at this, pretending that his pale, sallow, over-nighted face radiates crystal glitter. He has possibly practiced this as a come-on, in case Zoey or Kaylee would ever look at him again. And he’s practicing it now, there’s some second-guessing in his eyes as he vises Alex. He’s urgent, folks, Taylor is urgent. Possibly didn’t get off last night. Perhaps for several days, the overnight ride down from Baltimore kept him busy. Yes, adolescence is fraught with spontaneous erections, his little package is bulging already. He has noticed my wayward glance.

He did, yes, he did notice. Fuck you, I think, fuck you. My own erection from Brigitta’s Ben-sex is still in place.

“A call of nature,” he says unexpectedly. “I need to go to the bathroom, would you know…”
Yes, we do, we do know. The heat is getting me, I’m no longer thinking. Actually, I'm still thinking.
“I’ll show you,” I say, “it’s a bit difficult to explain.” Fuck Alex.

You recall the multi-purpose shed behind the stage where the non-meetings of the jury are held. That’s where we’re heading. It’s boiling hot in there of course, there’s no a/c, you enter and feel stripped naked by the heat. What was Brigitta’s expression? Flame-hot. Fuck you, I think again and take him past the clapped-out lockers into the shower room. The guy’s still a virgin, by assumption...

Are you still there? Then you'll possibly like the GREEN EYES. The first part is out now, available as Kindle book on Amazon, under this link:

Night Owl Reviews

Go here for the previous teaser, here for the next one, and here for a choice of chapters of the Green Eyes. And if you were wondering about this funny line, "statisticians the world over rejoice," go here.

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