Contrary to the headline, this month is not the best month of the year. Organized Authorosaurus that I am, I write my posts a month in advance, which means whatever you’re reading now I wrote so long ago that I probably don’t even remember what I wrote. That means the headline is referring to April—which actually isn’t the best month of the year either, because that’s December when I can use my Christmas money to buy more books.
But April certainly came close to being the best month for my boss. First, her conniving SE coworkers hatched a plan to smother her in appreciation (with my help, of course). She was going along innocently, not enjoying her day, when she received the Saury Embers newsletter. It was titled “Dinosaurs are more helpful than dragons.” So, of course, she had to go look at it, and she found a whole segment about her, and all that day her fellow staffers sent her notes of appreciation.
She didn’t think she deserved all this. And I know she didn’t deserve all that praise because I’m the one doing most of her work around there (don’t tell anyone because that might damage my reputation for being a nuisance).
Secondly, speaking of Saury Embers, they celebrated their first year anniversary!
And no, I didn’t eat the whole cake. But yes, I ate 99.99999% of it.
Thirdly, my boss is now one year older, ten years stubborner, five inches shorter (in my perspective, since I keep growing), and three times more insane. I’ve half a mind to quit and leave her to her obstinacy. But she’s got more tasty books, so I guess I’ll stick around despite the poor working conditions.
However, my boss’s good month was not good for me. In fact, April was one of the worst months of my life. After that meteor incinerated my roof, my insurance company called and said they were only covering the cost of the roof and wouldn’t rewrite all the rough drafts that were destroyed. And if that wasn’t enough to make it a horrible month, it will be a T. Rexirrible month by the time you read this because I will have been fired for what I’m going to be telling you about in the next paragraph.
Introducing Some Stuff I Probably Shouldn’t Be Telling You
My boss and I have been working on writing a series of short stories, and thanks to me, the first draft is finished. Mariposa still isn’t ready to share the characters with you, which is why I snuck into her office yesterday and grabbed these character sketches.
First, I’d like you to meet the protagonist, Sonny Kiddwell. If I could describe him to you, I would. But even if I could describe him to you, I wouldn’t. Sonny is the sort of fellow one might observe from day to night and still not know what to expect he’d do since his logic is a tad bent and his intelligence a bit lacking, but his imagination makes up for the slack. He’s got a heart of pure gold, a hair of pure dirt, and a head full of pure curiosity that’d dry up the patience of a saint by noontime.
Next, I’d like you to get acquainted with Sonny’s older brother, Dave. Him I can describe, but I won’t because I know he could do a better job himself, having read all 220,000 words in the dictionary and knowing how to pronounce 30,000 of them and spell 17,000 of them. When he isn’t reading, he’s thinking about reading, and when he’s not thinking about reading, he’s telling Sonny that he should be reading.
Lastly, I’d like to introduce you to Squirrelly, Sonny’s best friend and fellow ATV rider. If I could describe him, I’d call him nuts, and if I didn’t call him nuts, I’d call him pecans because that’s what he eats 80 percent of the time. The rest of the time he’s snacking on pistachios, peanuts, walnuts, macadamias, cashews, almonds, chestnuts, hazelnuts, or some exotic nut you don’t know and wouldn’t remember if I told you. If you were to ask why he looks so bewildered in this drawing, I would say I don’t know, because Squirrelly almost always looks bewildered about one thing or another. Just picture a chipmunk who’s just been told that he’s been stashing away pecans illegally and you’ll get the idea of what Squirrelly looks like most of the time.
Introducing Some More Stuff I Probably Shouldn’t Be Telling You
I know I promised I’d share the back blurb with you, but Mariposa stuck a mouse trap in her desk and I wasn’t able to get it. But I was able to sneak out these quotes and character exchanges, and you better appreciate them for all the finger pain I went through to obtain them (nearly chipped off one of my claws in the process).
“Do you like molasses?” he asked.
“What’s it matter whether I like molasses or not?”
“I dunno. I just figured you must have eaten somethin’ awfully sticky since your mouth was closed so long.”
A boom erupted and a puff of smoke rose from the front yard. Dave and Sonny scrambled out of the tree. They coughed, fanning the smoke away from their faces.
“Oh no, Pa exploded!” Sonny exclaimed.
“People don’t explode,” Dave told him, though all the smoke began to make him doubt his convictions.
By all natural logic, it should be working, but ATVs aren’t accustomed to bending to the laws of inductive reasoning, especially when the reasoning is done by a father who can’t tell the difference between a carburetor and a gasket, and an eight-year-old boy who once used WD-40 to oil a gardenia.
They bowed their heads while Pa said the prayer and Sonny silently thanked the Lord Pa hadn’t cooked tonight.
Instead, he soaked in the beauty of the stars and used that to permanently dye the recesses of his heart.
“Sometimes stories be like buried treasure—you gotta dig a little to find ‘em.”
Even More Stuff I Probably Shouldn’t Be Telling You
With the first draft under our belts, my boss hopes to start working on the second book of her time travel series. Now, there’s absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t be telling you this, except the first time she worked on it she contacted a case of writer’s block, and me telling you that she’s gonna be working on it again is liable to jinx her. But she’s got some fresh new inspiration from taking a break, and the ideas I planted outside her office are starting to bud, so I hope that helps. And if it doesn’t, I’ll just have to tell you in my next office post that she was a failure.
I will also be telling you that this post was a lie—April is not the best month of the year. It’s the second-best month of the year. The best month is June because…
And I will be distributing cake and paper-flavored ice cream to everyone, eating it before they get to taste it, and sharing the traumatic saga of how me and my boss met and my blog came to be.