Ouch. Today I realized I really hurt my thumb. Somehow, during the debris cleanup, I pulled the tendon away from the bone. So each time I go to wrap my thumb around something, it hurts. This is atop my bruised knee from falling on the tile floor last weekend, my assorted cuts and scrapes from carting debris to the curb.
As one friend put it, “You’re a walking disaster.”
Huh. The tree stumps in the back are still there. A tree guy promised to come take a look sometime in 2006. It’s raining… again. Each time it rains I get depressed about the hole in the roof, and the rain pouring through the crushed Florida room, wrecking whatever else remains out there we have no room to haul inside. Roofers tell me they are so backed up they are enlisting their mothers and grannies as helpers to cart roofing shingles and it will cost me $1 million to just get an estimate. I wanted to promise sex but that would only get me on a waiting list.
So here I am. And the one thing I really, really want to do is write Marcus’ and Alysia’s story. Marcus is a werewolf. I had written quite a bit of his story on vacation, but… I hate to admit it… I left him right in the middle of a sex scene. I mean… there he is, he and Alysia are, um, joined, I guess is the operative word. I meant to finish it. I did. But we had to get on the road and I never completed it. So Marcus is standing there, bending over the bed’s edge, part A inserted into her part B, forever suspended in time until I find time or energy to finish the scene.
I can imagine what is happening now in Marcus’ book world…He stands there, hunched over Alysia, enthralled and yet agonized because he is literally stuck…So the other characters from my Egyptian books walk in, giving advice….
Marcus: I can’t believe Bonnie just walked off and left me like this.
Alysia: How do you think I feel? I mean, we just start getting some nookie and I’m frozen in time? My back hurts. My legs ache from being spread so wide and damn, did you HAVE to press all that lovely muscled weight down on me? I feel like I’m on an ironing board beneath a steam roller.
In walks Jabari, Ramses, Kenneth, Graham and Tarik grown, characters from my past and future Khamsin Egyptian novels.
Marcus, snarling, tossing the sheet over Alysia to hide her nudity: Who the hell are you?
Jabari: I am sheik of the great Khamsin warriors of the wind. I am the first hero Bonnie created. I know her best. I am here to give you advice on your current situation.
Marcus: Current situation? Isn’t it a little obvious, shrek.
Ramses: That is sheikh. Show some respect.
Alysia: Uhhhrrr! I can’t see a thing under this sheet!
Graham: Perhaps if we toss some water on them…but that does not work on dogs.
Marcus, growling: I am not a dog. I am a werewolf.
Kenneth: You do look a little hairy…
Tarik: Look, we’re both in the same situation. Bonnie dropped the ball. She was going to write my story next, but I can’t even begin to get it on with my woman. At least you got this far. With
Ramses, growling: What is this about my daughter?
Tarik, hastily: Never mind.
Jabari: I know Bonnie best. She created me first. Until Bonnie gathers all her necessary energy and finds a spare moment to complete this act of love for Marcus and Alysia, I fear you are permanently stuck, Marcus.
Graham: She’s had too much stress lately. Between damage from the hurricane, displacement at the day job, trying to clean up, and trying to find roofers, tree people and trying to figure out how the hell she will cook a turkey on Thanksgiving, and worrying that her husband in his current lumberjack mania will use a chainsaw to carve it, she is not able to write.
Marcus: So that means I’m gonna stay like this, forever?
Jabari: I fear this is so. Until she returns to your story, you can’t go forward. Or back.
Alysia, beneath the sheet: Mmmmphhhh!
Graham, helpfully: It could be worse, Marcus. You could be paused on the brink of your release.
Ramses, nodding: Yes, indeed. Like backed up plumbing.
Kenneth: Maybe we should call that firm, Roto Rooter? And away will go trouble down the drain?