So last week I posted the prologue for The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably).
After enthusiastic applause, mostly by me, this week I'm going to post the prologue and a sliver of the first chapter of the Preditors and Editors Reader's Choice award for fantasy/sci-fi, The Next Adventures of Guy ... more wackiness.
(clap, clap, clap)
Don't clap for yourself, that's crass
(Oh, sorry ... whistle, whistle)
Um, no whistling either.
Anyway, here goes ... enjoy ...
Prologue
"Hey, dude."
"Yeah?"
"You ever heard of something called a siesta?"
"Siesta? Yeah, sure, I guess."
"You know what a siesta is?"
"Well, um, I think so. It’s like a nap or something, right?"
"Yep. You got it. It’s a nap or rest that one takes in Latin America or Spain after eating."
"Okay, sure. That makes sense."
"Do you know why they have siestas after eating?"
Though I was busy running through a graveyard, I thought for a second. "No, I guess I don’t really know."
"Well, it’s so that we won’t do this." And with that, the chicken quesadilla that I’d had for lunch slugged me in the gut. Hot sauce vapor burped past my lips and my ears popped as I went into a controlled roll.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a controlled roll. It was more like a graceful ballet dance move.
No, not really, it wasn’t.
A gymnastic spiral?
I wish.
Um. A tumbler’s spin?
No.
Okay, okay. The truth is, I doubled over in mid stride, my legs collapsing weakly, and stumbled into the sorcerer who was running next to me. He shoved back roughly, causing me to lose all control, trip over a tombstone from a guy who died in 1967, and skid face first into some ragweed missed by the cemetery’s groundskeeper.
I’m allergic to ragweed.
Chapter One
I rolled over, my nose and eyes already itching. "Aw, damn it!"
"You okay, Guy?"
I glared at Thurman. "Why’d you shove me?"
He looked hurt. "I didn’t shove you. You banged into me."
"I didn’t bang into you. I fell into you."
He was sweating profusely. Guess black Goth garb isn’t the best thing to wear when you’re expending unnecessary and excess amounts of energy.
The grass was nicely manicured and comfortable, so I rolled over and rubbed my nose.
"Dude, we have to get out of here," he said.
I sneezed but didn’t move. "All right, Thurman. Do you want to tell me where we’re going?" Something jabbed into my side. A television remote. My travel bag was lying against a tree, its contents strewn over the grass. The remote had likely spilled from the bag, which he’d packed in our rush to leave the house. "And why was this in my bag?"
He gave me a look. "Which do you want to know?"
"Huh?"
"Which question? You asked two."
"Oh, uh. Let’s start with…what’s going on? Why are we running?"
"Those are new questions," he accused. "Now you’re up to four. How am I supposed to answer four different questions at once?"
I sighed. I knew better than to get into that argument. So with that really patient voice that parents use to cover up their irritation when talking to a naughty toddler I said, "So, think. You busted into the house swirling purple smoke and yelling ‘they’re here,’ and something about a Quest. Do you remember that?"
"Um, yeah."
"And like big dummies, we dropped our beers, left the stereo on, and ran up into the graveyard. Are we in agreement?"
"Well, yeah, I guess so…"
"And my beer is dying of warmth right now and I’m not there to save it."
"Um."
"And I got tripped up and landed on my face."
"Okay."
"So the question really is, why am I here right now?’" I sneezed again. A string of gook spewed onto my hand. Gross. I wiped it on the grass. My eyes were watering from the ragweed.
"Oh, that question."
Norm
www.normcowie.com
The Adventures of Guy ... written by a guy (probably)
The Next Adventures of Guy... more wackiness
The Heat of the Moment
Missing (coming Oct 08)
fang face (Young adult humor/vampire coming Aug. 09)
