NaNoWriMo Day(s) 21–23

Three kabobing days with no update? For shame.

WORD COUNT: 36,213     PROJECTED WORD COUNT: 38,333      WORDS REMAINING: 13,787

And because you deserve it, after nearly a month of boring word count-only posts:

Photo credit: (x)

Completely out of context excerpt I wrote late at night while incredibly sleep-deprived and it shows:

Panicked, Marie picked up a chair and swung it at one of the smaller glass cases. The glass cracked but did not give way. She swung the chair a second time and a third. On the fifth hit the glass shattered.

The door slammed open and the two guards shoved their way into the room, guns pointed at Oven.

“Put your hands in the air!” the closest guard ordered.

Marie grabbed the weapon from the shattered remains of the case and pointed what she hoped was the right end at the guards.

“Hold it right there,” Marie ordered, “or I’ll shoot you with this. . .”  She glanced at the plaque on the shattered case. “The Horse–inator? Seriously? Fine, I’ll horse-inate you back to the barn where you belong!”

The guards just looked at each other.

“I admit that was pretty lame,” she said.

Oven went with it though. “Stand back,” he warned, “or she’ll trample you. In fact, I suggest you get off your high horse before she’s spurred into action. I guarantee your friends won’t be around in time to bale you out of trouble.”

The first guard began to raise his weapon anyway. “We’ll take our chances,” he said.

“Hold your horses,” Oven said. “The mane thing is, you’re betting on the wrong horse. You don’t want to stirrup any unnecessary trouble.”

“Oven,” Marie said.

“This will haunt you in your nightmares,” he continued.

“Oven.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to see her unbridled rage.”

“I’m about to shoot you myself,” Marie said.

“Hang on, hang on, I’ve only got a few more.” Oven turned to the second guard–who hadn’t said a word so far–and pleaded, “look, I’m sorry you got saddled with this poor job but shooting up the place? There are a lot of reactive materials here, it might make things a bit unstable, don’t you think?”

“You really had to work for that one,” Marie said, struggling not to laugh.

The first guard looked confused but managed to keep both his resolve and a straight face. “It’ll be fine,” he said.

“That’s not what I herd.”

Marie rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” she finally said, “stop fooling around.”

Oven grinned. “Stop foaling around?”

She let out an exasperated sigh.

Guard one, who had clearly come to the end of his rope at this point, aimed his gun at Oven.

She shot the horse-inator at him without thinking, nearly at the same time the guard started to pull the trigger. A porcelain horse figurine shot out of the end of her gun and hit the guard in the chest, sending him flying against wall amid a puff of white dust. The guard’s shot went wide and sizzled into one of the control panels.

The second guard pointed his gun at Marie.

“Why you little–” the guard started.

The deafening blast shook tiles from the ceiling and made everyone in the room jump. Marie’s finger hit the trigger of the Horseinator accidentally and sent another rearing porcelain figurine into the second guard’s chest, slamming him against the wall and knocking him out as well.

“Nice work. A thoroughly good job,” Oven said.

She turned around slowly. The metal cylinder in the center of the room was smoking and an enormous hole had been melted in the far wall. Through the carnage, Marie could just make out the central column that marked the data room.

“Time to go,” she said.

Oven crossed his arms. “Neigh.”

She swallowed a grin. “Fine. Hay, Oven, stop horsing around and let’s. . .stampede. Or something.”

Slowly, Oven nodded his acceptance.

As they carefully made their way towards the giant smoking hole that led to the data center, Oven turned to her, coughing.

“You know,” Oven rasped, “all those puns made my voice a little. . .”

She pointed the horse-inator at him.

He swallowed. “–raspy.”