I’ve taken yesterday’s post to heart, and am seriously working on Cobault as the novel I intend to turn into a glittering, finished manuscript worthy to represent me as a writer to the publishing world. And by reading it from the beginning, editing as I go, I’ve realised that I actually like it – Writer’s Blah be damned!
So with that, I give you an excerpt in which my main character, Algernon, gets drunk and lots of puns happen. Yay!
“Listen,” it was two hours later, and Bertrand was into his fifth pint, “Alg-, Alerg-, Alergininon. My friend. I want to help you, you know that, right?”
“I know, I know,” Algernon replied, enjoying the feeling of lightness he hadn’t known since even before the cave-in. Perhaps his whole life. But then again, he had never been drunk before.
“Good. I’m glad you know, because I know. I know a lot of stuff, you know? Ha! But you Know stuff I don’t know! So let’s try to know each other’s knowing, er, knowledge. Okay?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Colin started to laugh at Bertrand, making the table shake.
“What I’m saying, boys,” Bertrand addressed the group, “is that I’m going to teach our boy Al-, Aler-, Allerg-. Fuck. I’m going to teach Al, here, how to name shit and do shit the way they want him to. And then he can teach me how to Know shit. It’s a perfect trade-off!” He drank to his own ingenious plot.
“What if I can’t teach you to Know?” Algernon was slowly remembering what that blue-eyed twat of a professor had told him. “I think you can’t Know unless you Know, you know?”
“No!” They all started laughing again.
“Oh, shit, we’re drunk.” That set them off again.
“What time is it, anyways?” Colin tried to read the clock mounted behind the bar. “I think it says its half past seventy, but that can’t be right.”
“Half past seven, idiot!” Denny chastised him with an elbow to the ribs.
“Aw, shit. We missed dinner,” Ned frowned, deepening the folds of his chin, and everyone laughed. Of all of them, Ned was the one who could use some missed meals.
“There’s a fry-up down the street,” Durstram suggested. “They do a good fish fry.”
“Ooh, but I want chips.”
“They have chips, too.”
“Ok, lads. Into the breach!” They all stumbled out onto the dark street, its street lamps dim in the gloom.
“I think it’s this way,” Durstram pointed, and soon they were tripping down the cobbles, causing the few pedestrians nearby to cross over to the other side of the street.
“I think I like the Academy,” Algernon mused aloud. “Why not?”
“Why not!” Shouting the words like a battle cry, the rowdy group disappeared into the night.
I haven’t made it to where I’d left off in my rewriting, taking my time as I am in rereading and editing as I see fit, but even in what I’m doing now I’m feeling some progress being made. Which is fabulous.
In other news, I’m learning that a hot water bottle can replace putting the heat on. This money-saving tip was brought to you by poverty and the letter Q.