Or something like that (I wrote a draft of this yesterday). I’m busy trying to nail some stuff down for ConDFW in JUST TWO DAYS! Ack! There’s a new anthology appearing and a Redheads sketch to polish up. Cats to herd. Ducks to row. That sort of thing.
My schedule is light for Friday, just a reading and a panel. Then Saturday… wow, Saturday. I have even hour panels from 10 am to 8 pm (except 6 pm) – including Redheads and a Road Show. So if I appear to be a bit frazzled or seem to blow past you without acknowledging you – it’s probably because I’m rushing to the restroom or to find some food. It’s not you, it’s me. PROMISE. But Sunday I have just one 11 am panel.
But it’s going to be awesome. I look forward to ConDFW every year. I know they’ve struggled a few years. I hope we keep it going. So come out and join us.
Until I see you there – and so I keep up the momentum – here’s this week’s “Write the Story” exercise:
Prompt: Drama In and Out of the Lab
Words: microbiologist, telephone, hidden, bystander, trench, inside, international, shoe, heights, persuade
“Is creating a hidden trench just inside the lab’s entrance really a good idea?” I asked, easing back toward the cluttered lab tables.
“You won’t let me drop anyone from the heights of the building.”
I sighed. “Dr. Boulder, we’ve been through this. I don’t like the idea of a bystander getting hurt by shoe salesmen going splat on the sidewalk.”
“Humph.” Dr. Boulder reset the holographic projector that disguised the trench and set a bridge. Boulder returned to tinkering with another project. And I went to answer the telephone.
This was my life now. I could’ve been a rich, corporate microbiologist doing research to make Twinkies actually survive a nuclear winter, but no. I let my graduate advisor persuade me to be…here. Boulder was an internationally renowned scientist. It was a great honor to work with one of the greatest minds of the world.
Except he was bat crap crazy. My job was to provide the net – avoid the traps, and keep us both alive.
A startled scream and a meaty thunk followed by a plaintive “JOANIE” dragged my attention back to the crumpled form of a paranoid scientist. He forgot the ejector panel. I grabbed the trauma kit. Just another day in the lab.