The 2007 SJ Anyone-Can-Do-This Summer Novel--Beta Version

What in the hell am I doing in the preparing room, said Heineken Man, and why is my housemaid on the other table?

 

The housemaid had just returned from Office Max, where Carlos the check-out guy turned her on to a special tape that removes unseemly hair, and, given her his phone number.

 

But Carlos didn't realize that slip of paper with his phone number on it would implicate him in a murder.

 

Carlos looked down at the number, and his eyes became wide.

 

The number on the slip of paper was not his number at all, but rather of this large sports writer he knew who had asked him to give it to this hot girl at the bar they were both at the night before.

 

Instead of the number, Carlos gave her other digits -- something that drew a wry smile before the realization of what happened set in.

 

Carlos proceeded to give her a gift from the sports writer, but not the inch count she was expecting.

 

Digits, online novels, inch counts...it was all reminiscent of the summer of 2003, the sportswriter thought, as she sat in the stands watching the Cyclones during spring practice.

 

As she watched the Cyclones she ate a steamy chicken pot pie, and thought.

 

"Oh, If I could only remember where this story jumped off the tracks," said the omnicient narrator to him or herself.

 

Shut up and get back to work, said the Omniscient Narrator's conscience, because his chicken pot pie is delicious.

 

The chicken pot pie, with its steamy, creamy goodness; its crunch vegetables; its flaky, golden crust; better THAN a Boston Creme Pie, according to any managing editor who can make such a claim, let alone an omniscient narrator's conscience.