Melting, I am melting

It's sooooo hot!!! I'm MELTING! It's like this here. I hate blogger. I just hate it. It's like the sun, okay?


I sent my guests from the US to this wicked cool spa (actual pictures of place) with marble pools and an artificial wave generator. Unfortunately I have to do this translation and my FINGERTIPS ARE OOZING SWEAT on the keyboard.

Chorgil

'Tell me about him.'
'He's the Blue Elf. The picture is not very good. He has black hair and very blue eyes. He wears a black butterfly mask and he has two vibrant green swords, the Twin Blades of Grass.'
'What's he like?'
Vechus shrugged. 'He's fast. He... I guess his problem is that he has no moral center.'
'I'm not sure I follow.'
'Right and wrong are things he is just learning. It's because he's not human. He's a dancer.'
'A dancer? How is dancing involved?'
'If I kill you I know if it's right or wrong. I might do it even if it's wrong but I won't do it out of whimsy. Chorgil makes his decisions as if he was dancing on air to some music only he can hear.'
'Capricious?'
'Not by design.'
'That sounds terribly unreliable.'
'It is. Dancers are attractive clowns. He's dangerous. He takes people up into the sky.'
'Oh. What then?'
'They come down.'

Correction - Nemesis Misidentified

Recently I realized that this was not a turnip. It is a kohlrabi.

'I adore me' she cooed lovingly.

I'd reread Steven King's book On Writing. It's good stuff. Unfortunately, I actually understood it.
I have already written 69,800 words out of a planned 70,000, my latest novel. Most of it is not in accordance with the principles of King's book.
Those are good principles - for example, verb abrogation should be kept to a minimum. No 'cooed lovingly'. Ever.
It should say ''I adore me,' she said.' It should never-ever say 'cooed lovingly.'
Unfortunately the flavor of the nearly finished book demands 'cooed lovingly'; but - and here is the big problem - I already started something new that sounds really, really, really damned good and it is written the RIGHT way. It makes all the rest of my stuff sound like absolute crap. Now every time I pull up the nearly-done manuscript of the other novel I just want to delete like a sonofabitch..
I also have a plot problem. Now I don't worry about plot until I am nearing the end of my alloted word-length, but I got there so...
The problem is that I don't have an ending. I can't think of one. I believe in just writing down what the characters act out on the stage of my imagination but the characters are not cooperating. They just want to live their quiet lives and fornicate. That is not a frigging ending.
I know - just write that, that is true, that is what you're supposed to do. Write the truth, always. It is the hallmark of good writing. Don't force a character to do something that they don't want to do simply because you want a fucking plot. I know this.
In truth I am thinking of cheating because I want to write the new book and this one is in the way.

Update at 11

I waited 2.5 hours until the dentist deigned to see me.

'Your tooth slipped off.'
Shaking head: 'Not exactly. The peg broke. I mean, here it is.' (handing over turnip-mined treasure)
All blood draining from his face (seriously): 'Oh no! You see, this is a custom designed zirconium peg. I can't use metal in your head.'

(He is right about that. This is because I am constantly on the run from Magneto. If I allowed a crown that contained metal, I would be pretty much at his mercy. This reminds me: none of the soldiers in X-men 3 had ANY dental work that contained metal. Because if they did, Magneto would have killed them like THAT).
'No, you can't use metal in my head,' I agreed. 'Temporarily it's okay though.'
'Would it be okay if you walked around without your tooth for a while?'
'Ugh... What do you mean 'for a while''?
'You're here for good, right? You're not going back to America?'
'Oh. For a WHILE??? Yeah, I'm here for good.'
'Oh good then.'
'Uhm... so I need a new crown?'
'Yes, we have to redo the whole thing.'
'Brilliant. Brilliant. So what if I have a date?'
He looks at me. I can tell he feels sorry for me.
'We'll put the tooth back in using a metal peg, temporarily. And we will take an imprint early next week and then get a new one of everything.'
'Thank you so much.'

So now I have my old tooth back in. I have express orders not to bite into anything dense. Particularly turnips.

p.s.: I know zirconium is a metal. It can't be manipulated by Magneto, however, so keep your snide comments to... oh shit. I just looked it up on Wikipedia:
Zirconium zinc alloy becomes magnetic at temperatures below 35 K. Oxidation states of zirconium include +4, although +3 and +2 can be obtained.
Fine, fine, so I've been at Magneto's mercy all this time. I hate you.

Introduction: The Nemesis (a.k.a the Turnip)

Yesterday I decided to eat only root vegetables. I included apples too because they are sort of dense and rootlike if you close your eyes and imagine some fiber.

I obtained 2 (two) turnips, a bunch of carrots and 4 (four) apples, for sustenance. Also bought a bottle of spring water.

Then I went to see my father play chess in his old person's chess club. They watched me suspiciously as I produced the first carrot and began to chomp on it. I offered people carrots but they just sort of looked freaked out.

Then I went home. I was starving so I pulled forth the first turnip (Nemesis) and bit into it.

I am a fan of turnips. They are tasty and dense.

Unfortunately, I broke my tooth (the crown peg thingie broke). I felt a yawning void open up in my gums, a ventilated, unwelcome sensation. I had to mine the turnip to recover the fake tooth (crown).

Now there is a cavernous hole in my mouth. My dentist is one of those Very Good Dentists - if you call him for an appointment Time is viewed on geological scales. So what I will do is actually GO there and make hideous mewling noises like a cat that has been stepped on. Report at 11 (eleven).

Clever Boy

I was walking uphill on this long set of stairs to the castle (there is a castle on the Buda side, it's rather pretty) when a dog (the kind of dog on the picture) appears at the top of the stairs. He is alone, wearing a red collar (ok, could be a she, didn't look for a penis). Anyway, I stare at him, because he is CARRYING A LETTER IN HIS MOUTH. I can make out two stamps, it is addressed to someone and it is NOT junkmail.

The dog has this exceptionally purposeful stride to him. He looks at me and trots past.

At this point I had already come to a screeching halt and staring at the beast.

He veered to the left (a small bit of weed infested lawn) and dropped the letter. He looked at me; no - he MEASURED me.
Obviously I was found wanting because WHILE HE WAS WATCHING ME he scooted over the letter and took a monstrous, light-brown shit all over it.

I can't make something like this up.