Out of sheer insanity, I'm going back through The Colonists, the first "adult" novel I finished. Posting the Sarah Palin pegging bit the other day put the manuscript back on my radar. Also, I'm sick of peddling pedestrian sketches. My poor ghost story characters are underserved by my not-so-pulse-pounding pencils (he sobbed and moaned). So far, The Colonists isn't all that bad. It's no great shakes, but I'm not wincing looking at scribble from 2012. Here's a wee bit from Chapter 9, our hero - Stan Kenmore - interacting with Mercy, one of the Cowgirls Coffee baristas:
Near the end of the day, Mercy walked past Stan, headed towards Plumbing Penguin. Wearing the knee-high boots with what looked like bulbous dragon eyes and a heel design like the tops of dragon teeth. It seemed each of her steps might leave a glowing, molten imprint in its wake. The underside of her behind squooshed out from the silvered, skin flush shorts. She pursued the incline toward the plumbing store in careful steps like she was climbing up an ice covered hillside in snow boots, all sorts of fractures evident in the thin ice. He wondered if she smiled for the Plumbing Penguin people. Salli said she’d seen Mercy be really nice, but it was usually to people she didn’t know all that well. Once she knew you, and knew what to expect in terms of disappointment, then the growling version of Mercy was unleashed.
Near the end of the day, Mercy walked past Stan, headed towards Plumbing Penguin. Wearing the knee-high boots with what looked like bulbous dragon eyes and a heel design like the tops of dragon teeth. It seemed each of her steps might leave a glowing, molten imprint in its wake. The underside of her behind squooshed out from the silvered, skin flush shorts. She pursued the incline toward the plumbing store in careful steps like she was climbing up an ice covered hillside in snow boots, all sorts of fractures evident in the thin ice. He wondered if she smiled for the Plumbing Penguin people. Salli said she’d seen Mercy be really nice, but it was usually to people she didn’t know all that well. Once she knew you, and knew what to expect in terms of disappointment, then the growling version of Mercy was unleashed.
Stan
didn’t see her clamber down the decline, but turned toward her when the steps
on gravel were near.
Walking back towards the booth, her hands were
up messing with the knot keeping her hair up in back.
“You
look like you ought to be in a rock band,” said Stan.
She
shook her head, the hair coming loose.
"Fuck, motherfucker," she said. "I am a rock band."
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