More Work on Bookworks

(Yesterday some of you clicked on B**g values in my piece to find that yours has a value of zero. That is probably incorrect. You may need to ask 2-3 times. I found, for instance, that Tan Lucy Pez got a value of zero, but on the third try I got a value of $31,049. So try, try again.)

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My pals Raehan and Born Fool have enlisted in National Novel Writing Month. All the participants will be trying to write a 50,000-word novel between Nov. 1 and Nov. 30. There are no prizes; a few of the books have actually been published. You can read about it and sign up here.

Now, I don't think I can do this, personally. But if I were going to do it, my title and first paragraph would be one of the following. I know they're all good, but let me know your favorite.

"Tales From the Shortbranch Saloon"

Clint Sidesaddle strolled into the Shortbranch Saloon, his face dripping wet. Lefty Noxious asked him, "It raining out there?" Clint replied, "No, I was drinkin' outta the horse trough. Say, you know if mosquito larva got any protein in 'em?" Other gunslingers in the bar go "Ewwwww!!" in unison, D-major flat. Clint, who had somehow morphed into Roy Orbison, began to sing, "Pretty woman, walkin' down the street, pretty woman..." He was staring straight at Julia Roberts, who was being approached by Leo Gorcey. Leo says to Julia, "Hi, honey, wanna shag?" Julia: "You're a little small," she said, shortly. "Nose to nose your toes would be in it; toes to toes your nose would be in it."

"Prince Hashberry of Twickenham Baronial Estate and Other Places"

"Mother, I don't think building a castle on the Great Plains was a good deal," Prince Hashberry said, plaintively. "Since you can see for miles, nobody can get close enough to attack so we could get written up like those guys at the Alamo or Almagordo, whatever." Mother, who lived in Chicago and and made her fortune in pork bellies, had gotten the little bastard to finally leave home by setting him up with a castle in Kansas. "Well, move," she said, movingly. Hashberry settled in the Texas Panhandle, and told his staff: "We're not in Kansas anymore." Hash later went mad as a hatter, but his staff had the makings of two motion pictures. Neither of them would be named "Tora, Tora, Tora."

"When We Were Dung"

Scarab was probably the best dung-roller that ever lived. Legions of dung beetles had come and gone, but Scarab was the finest. Scarab was getting old now, long in the fece and beetle-browed, as beetles are wont to do. Scarab often told his grandchildren, "I worked elephone dung, rabbit and deer pellets, cow plop, you name it. I would do anything to Make My Pile."

"Jesus Christ, the Early Years"

Synopsis: Little nothing (?) was known of most of Christ's early life until this book by Ol' Hoss the Housebroken. It has lately been discovered Christ spent his time working on white thread. He invented white sheets for Harey guys to wear in airports, white sheets for Arabian headwear, white sheets for Ku Klux Klan parades, and white sheets for ghosts to wear at Halloween. His brother James became Christ's marketing agent, and eventually got together enough loot to become a money-changer. They went broke when James underestimated the strength of the Japanese yen after World War II. Rated "R" for violence.

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My favorite word today is terror. N., the little brat. Def.: Student who makes you wonder why paddling wouldn't be better than Ritalin.