And again!

From the Me files, first drafts:

“They’ll need four or five more changes of formal wear,” she said thoughtfully, tapping her chin and examining her new dolls, “two of those’ll be tuxedoes, another tailcoat getup, and a few simpler suits. Let’s go from there.”

“Certainly. C’mere Chip my lad, we’ll start with you.” Clarice on one side and Jimmy on the other, Chip was effectively dragged to the formal section and relieved of his brown shirt. “Hey—I can take it off myself, you know.” They didn’t seem to hear him, as they were rifling through the clothing available. Dale winked at Chip and disappeared into the maze of cloth to entertain himself. Chip smacked his forehead and hoped everything was still standing when Jimmy and Clarice were ready to start on Dale.

Over the next hour, Chip got to stretch his arms every which way, hold very still as Jimmy took all sorts of measurements, and put on everything one captor or the other shoved at him. Through this, he listened to Clarice and Jimmy talk of the particulars of how to balance a group’s wardrobe, how Chip and Dale should have one of each type of formal outfit identical to the other’s, for when they together were backing up Clarice, and one or more that spoke to their own style for when they were meant to stand out, either Chip against Dale or Chip against Dale against Clarice. They talked of color, whether Chip would look better with the lighter or darker shades as the dominant color, whether green suited him or not.

“Don’t I get to make any decisions here?” he asked at one point.

“Chip, dear,” Clarice looked at him very seriously. “Brown shirt.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?”

He got no answer, of course, because Clarice had gone back to designing his wardrobe.

And, finally, Clarice announced that Chip was done picking a wardrobe for the moment, and allowed him to don his brown shirt again. Until it was time to pick some casual wear, anyway. “Now, be a dear and find Dale, will you?”

I'm somewhat proud of that bit. Of course, I'm even more proud of what comes next in my story. It is ultra fun, if I may say so myself.

Yeesh. It's depressing how slowly the text and plot gathers together when writing. Even when I really want to do it and am starting to be obsessed with it, it's still like walking upstream in a mud slide. It just doesn't happen. But when I found out I'd be walking up a mudslide, I cheated and borrowed the Hook Shot from Link, so it's okay, and it will get done.

And now, stuff. If I have my information straight, the term "blog" is a blend of "web" and "log." I've read that the early blogs that first went by the name were not only logs on the web, but logs about the web and all the content available therein. The second sentence in this paragraph is infinitely more uncertain than the first, but I'll go with the the log-about-the-web claim for a part of this post. Since my webcomic choices went over well last time, I'll point all two of you to Gunnerkrigg Court.
Gunnerkrigg Court is about a not-so-normal British boarding school and the students who attend there, most notably the protagonist Antimony Carver. Gunnerkrigg Court has a very nice mood, gets a very distinctive art style as it progresses, and anything with that many mythologies bouncing around has my approval. The only consistent complaint is that the cartoonist has an extreme aversion to actually explaining what's happening in his story... although, he somehow manages to use this to make Gunnerkrigg that much more appealing. Curse him.

~Paul