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Zot spot

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Hey, look, over there! It's Elvis!



Bah. Characters are a pain. I should be working on the rewrite of the last two chapters of Yankee, or on its sequel, or on Wild Life, or even (gasp!) actual Real Work. Instead... instead I'm cleaning out someone's basement. Metaphorically, at least.


At least this thing should be shortish, probably about as long as Firegrass was.


To tease, here's a bit of the beginning of this untitled thing:


Untitled Story


"William," Ben said, his voice thick with accusation. "What did you do?"


"I didn't do anything," William protested. "Its just that there's a pocket dimension in our basement."


"Really," Ben said.


"Yes," William replied, nodding hard.


"Where, exactly, was this pocket dimension?"


William started to fidget uncomfortably. "You know that back corner where the stone in the walls was discolored, the one you didn't like so you put extra wards over it and moved the traveling trunk on top of it for safe keeping?"


Ben just nodded.


"Well," William said brightly, "you need a new trunk."


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