There is no way to summarize this, 50,000 words

 I can't wait for you to read the last few thousand words of my novel. There is so much that doesn't make sense and was clearly just added for word count. I used my favorite method - finished the story with about 200 words to go, so I just scrolled back and forth trying to add words in different places. As soon as I hit 50k, I stopped, even though Fenn had just made the crazy statement that they didn't want to see Taylor Swift's lab-themed Taylor Swift cover band perform! And they didn't even justify this! 

Thank you all for your support this month, and especially Sam for giving me so much to steal! And Katie for sending me her latest novel so I could use a lot of it. :)

Here's an excerpt. This takes place at one of Fenn's chants. Our old friend, Lorina Rigaux, sans cursèd scarf, shows up, and she is PISSED OFF.

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“For months, I had been trying to get rid of the cursed scarf around my neck. It was a pair of toddler arms strangling me; I had accidentally walked into a store that, unbeknownst to me, sells cursed items. I thought the scarf was quite fetching and tried it on… when the scarf wouldn’t relinquish me, I had to purchase it. By the way, I had to remortgage my home to pay for it! And then at that Bullshit Oracle rally, my scarf just disappeared in a puff of smoke! All that money, down the drain! And I’m still paying for it! It’s a scandal!”

The crowd was growing restless. As you no doubt know, it’s almost impossible to understand what someone is saying when they are talking into a megaphone. So most people had no idea what was going on. And anyway, they were there to lift curses, not mourn them. 

Lorina felt the crowd’s mood was shifting against her, and raised her voice. 

“That scarf, my greatest curse, was also my greatest strength! Every day, I was cuddled in the warm embrace of a toddler! Yes, the toddler was strangling me! But that’s how toddlers hug! I miss my scarf!”

Lorina broke down weeping, earning the sympathy of the people nearest her in the crowd. For a few minutes, the megaphone blared out the sounds of Lorina crying. It was a horrifying racket, very hard on the ears, due to the combination of adult weeping and the megaphone distortion. (By the way, a megaphone somewhat distorts the sound of the voice because the frequency response of the megaphone is greater at higher sound frequencies.)

There was a wave of movement through the crowd, some people moving away to escape the noise, others moving closer to comfort Lorina. 

And then another sound broke through. 

“My name is Gordon the Vampyre, though of course I need no introduction. I am the influencerpreneur responsible for the global popularity of piquette, which, if you’ve been, and I quote, out of the loop, for the last few months, is what poor farm workers drank centuries ago in France, when they could afford nothing else. Low in alcohol content, tasting like an olive seltzer that was dropped on the forest floor, piquette was an unlikely contender for Martha Stewart’s Summer Sip of the Century contest. But we won, fangs down.” Gordon chuckled. “I hope you will permit me the odd vampyre joke. As an influencerpreneur, it’s my duty to stay on brand!” Gordon took a quick selfie, day-glo fangs shining out of its mouth. Then he dropped into a crouch and tried to hold one foot up in the air to display the careful roll of his Batman-printed crew socks. When he fell over, he saved it by taking another nonchalant selfie, as if he all along he had intended to fall ass over teakettle.

“I know what you’re wondering. Why does this so-called megaphone sound so amazing, when Lorina Rigaux, ex-cursèd-scarf wearer, sounded horrible. It’s a new invention of mine! It’s a metaphone! Used primarily for postmodern speeches on the dialectic of criticality, the metaphone anti-distorts the sound of the voice by critically examining all of the sound frequencies and deconstructing the process of becoming! Patent pending!!!” Gordon’s voice did sound amazing. Fenn wondered if they could convince Gordon to only speak through a metaphone for the rest of its life. (I thought it was mean, so didn’t mention before how much everyone thought Gordon’s voice was annoying. Overly shrill, Gordon’s voice caused the listener to picture, in graphic detail, the quantity of spit in Gordon’s mouth. It was off-putting, to say the least.)

“Now, let’s not get distracted by the promotion I’m running, only $99.99 for a metaphone if you order today! Hashtag mega meta! Do not come up to me with your credit cards! Let’s deconstruct Lorina’s speech!”

Lorina had stopped crying a while ago and was staring, mouth agape. It was too cold for flies, by the way. 

“Deleuze would probably say that the book is not an image of the world, it forms a rhizome with the world, there is an aparallel evolution of the book and the world. And obviously the same applies to rhizomatic cursèd scarves.

“To get old school for a minute, if you’ll forgive me for the allusion, let’s consider Derrida’s approach. Derrida famously said “I do everything I think possible or acceptable to escape from this trap.” Which trap? The trap of being uncursèd, unbelovèd, untoddlerèd. Do not be afraid to reclaim your curse! Don’t let this Bullshit Oracle tell you what to do! 

“Let me digress for a moment, and present my sincere hope for apologies to my good friend Fenn, believe me when I say I am not trying to restart a feud with you! Those times are all in the past! But I cannot stand by and let you ruin this person’s life!

“Back to the issue at hand! Repeat after me! In the immortal words of Lorina Rigaux!

“My curse! Is my greatest! Strength!”