
Because I am a contrary beast, when the words pile up without me even realizing it, humm hummm talk talk happening happening along? I'm convinced it's crap. This makes a high word count less satisfying than you might think. But still, we type on, and worry about the crapitude tomorrow (especially since CGAG will tell me how it's going, tonight).
"Did you catch the bastard?" Nick asked.
Stosser shook his head. His ponytail was loose, and the strands fell over his shoulders, making him look like Jesus Christ crossed with the little girl from all the Wendy’s ads. "Didn’t even get a good look at whoever it was. Did anyone get a chance to tap the current, get a feel for his signature?"
We all looked at him like he’d lost his mind. One minute we’re eating pizza and the next we’re flat on the floor, under attack, and he wants to know if anyone sampled the guy’s current?
"Next time," Nifty said, maybe a little heavy on the sarcasm. Stosser just nodded, like that was an acceptable answer.
Meanwhile, I am out of diet coke. and coffee. and triscuits. This is Very Bad.