Thanks to all the people who embraced "Thanking Up a Storm" from last week. I think it's safe to say the whole thing was a moderate success. I love moderate successes. There's nothing overblown about them, and best of all they don't leave you feeling pressured to top them like overwhelming successes do. Overwhelming successes are so overrated.

Anyway, I'm still recovering from a long and satisfying holiday weekend, so instead of writing about my ambivalence towards leftovers or my tense night watching Ice Wars X, I figured I'd post the entire section from my NaNoWriMo novel that I left last week in the comments fields of all the sites on my blogroll. I figure many people may not have had the time to click on each and every link to read the piece in its entirety, so here's a chance to do so click-free. As an added bonus, I've included a new ending that did not appear on "Thanking Up a Storm Day."

So here it is, in all its glory. My only regret is that NaNoWriMo is over, and I won't be able to continue journeying with Dame Maggie, Count von, Otto, and all until next November. Oh well. Somehow I think we all shall live.

Innocuous Kielbasa: Putting the Sex-Type Thing On, Vol. 1
by C Monks

Otto heard the rumblings from up above. He considered climbing the basement steps to check out what was going on, but he didn't want to risk Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily yelling at him again. He wondered why she treated him so cruelly. It wasn't always like this. Long ago, when they first met at her family's Kielbasa factory, he sensed a mutual admiration. She was hard to ignore with her big beautiful eyes and her club foot; and he had a way about him that attracted the ladies, particularly those born with a minor birth defect of some sort.

Otto had anticipated a great love affair with Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily. Yet, somewhere along the line they grew apart. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that they were first cousins, for even he had to admit it would have been weird to take a cousin as a lover. Still, something told him there was more to it than that, that there was something else that drove a wedge between them.

Was it her childhood sweetheart, Justin Timberpond? Oh, how Otto hated that boy. And if only he could have made Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily see just how deceitful and conniving Justin Timberpond was. Maybe then they could have shared a love. A part of him still wanted to convince her of Timberpond's treachery, but then Otto knew it would look like a callous act given Timberpond's recent extreme snowboarding accident.

Loud sounds continued to emanate from above. Footsteps. Shouting. Pots and pans clanging. Was somebody cooking? Otto was famished. The Indian food Count von Hasselhoffer had sent down a couple of days ago had run out. Well, actually, there was a half of a veggie pakora left, but Otto really wasn't in the mood for pakora. For Otto, some foods you just had to be in the mood for, like cotton candy, candied apples, and pakora.

So Otto waited quietly in the basement, like he had been since they arrived. He hoped that eventually somebody would come down to get him, or at least bring him a takeout menu from some restaurant that wasn't Indian. Or Thai. Or Mexican. Vietnamese food, that's what he was in the mood for. A big bowl of Vietnamese soup. What did they call soup in Vietnam? Hmm. Otto forgot. Bip N' Bop? No, that's Korean. And that's not really soup either. Oh well. It didn't matter, anyway; he knew that's what he wanted.

Otto looked up the basement stairwell. Please bring me Vietnamese soup, he whimpered. Please! Please! Please!

But no one could hear Otto's whimpering for there was far too much activity going on what with the police raid and all. Count von Hasselhoffer and Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily, both now fully clothed, sat in shock in the game room, as the fancy dressed police people searched every nook and cranny of the castle.

***

"You'll think they'll confiscate our amateur sex tape?" Count von Hasselhoffer asked.

"I think they already have," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said. "I saw an officer make a copy of it. By now it's probably all over the Internet."

"Damn," Count von Hasselhoffer said.

"Yep," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said.

"This isn't going to do wonders for my campaign to become registrar probate of Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea," Count von Hasselhoffer said, picking up the game pad to his XBOX.

"Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea"? Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily asked.

"Yep, Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea."

"I thought it was just 'Hasselhofferania'."

"Oh, that's just what we call it for short. 'Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea' is the official town name."

"But we're nowhere near the ocean," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said.

"True," Count von Hasselhoffer said, "But our town's forefathers thought it would be a good idea to imply that we were by the ocean. You know, for tourism."

"Your family's novelty meat theme park isn't enough to attract visitors?"

"Well, generally it is, but after the sausage chute ride disaster the town had a serious public relations problem on its hands."

And so they sat. Every once in a while a police officer would come into the room and search their pockets and/or body orifices, but other than that it was a pretty laidback afternoon. Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily joined Count von Hasselhoffer in a game of Pong on the XBOX, and in between matches they ate Pirate Booty and drank Red Bull.

"I love Red Bull," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily announced after just beating Count von Hasselhoffer in Pong for the eighth straight time.

"I don't care," Count von Hasselhoffer grumbled. "Let's play again. I am so going to kick your ass this time."

Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily wondered if Otto ever drank Red Bull. It would seem to be right down his alley. Otto loved hearty, full bodied energy drinks. But why was she suddenly thinking about her underling chauffeur, Otto? She hadn't had a kind thought about him in quite some time, for he was just her underling chauffeur and not meant for kind thoughts. Still, she couldn't get her mind off him.

Count von Hasselhoffer wished Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily would just shut-up about the Red Bull and let him win at least one game of Pong. He was a Count after all, and she should have the decency to throw a game or two for him. He wasn't use to losing, for all his life his nannies and concubines had let him win at Pong. Just who did Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily think she was beating him so effortlessly?

"Just who do you think you are beating me so effortlessly?" Count von Hasselhoffer asked Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily.

"What do you mean?" Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said.

"I mean what are you, some kind of Pong playing pro or something?"

"No, this is the first time I've ever played. I swear."

"Liar!"

"No, honestly," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said. "Hey, have I told you how much I like Red Bull?"

"Will you stop it with the Red Bull?!?"

***

Officer Shelton had been looking forward to this day for a long time. He'd been investigation Count von Hasselhoffer for years, waiting for the right piece of evidence to come along that would shut down the Count's nefarious novelty meat factory. As he surveyed the castle he tried to hold back his glee. This is a dream come true, he thought. Except I'm not dreaming; I am fully awake. Man, I love this fully awake non-sleeping dream. I only wish there were a lot of naked women around, like I had originally envisioned.

Sure when they stormed the castle, Officer Shelton saw Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily naked, but who hasn't? It seemed as though wherever nudity was, Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily was there. Naked. Given her overexposure, he wasn't sure how much her and Count von Hasselhoffer's amateur sex tape would go for, but he figured it was worth a shot. His daughter, Lois, needed that extreme makeover something fierce, and any extra cash would help.

But other than the amateur sex tape the search had thus far turned up very little. There were out of code sausage casings in the warehouse and olive loafs without any olives, but everything else had checked out okay. However, Officer Shelton knew there was a smoking gun lurking somewhere in the bowels of Hasselhoffer castle, and that it would be only a matter of time until it was discovered.

***

And still Otto waited. He'd never spent so long a time in a basement before, especially one in a castle. Sure, like any young cub scout of north eastern European descent from the Greater Boise area, he grew up playing in his family's basement. But this basement was a lot different. It was bigger, darker, and cooler than the basement that he'd grown up with. But the main thing that was different about Hasselhoffer Castle's basement was that it was full of body bags. And not just empty body bags, but body bags with something in them. What, he did not know. The idea that they could contain actual bodies did cross his mind, but he was so hungry he couldn't focus on that possibility. Plus, it would put a serious kibosh on his appetite.

"Vietnamese soup," Otto murmured in the dark. "Please let them bring me Vietnamese soup." No one could hear him, of course, what with all the hustle and bustle of the police search going on above, but still Otto felt compelled to murmur his plea. "Vietnamese soup. Please?"

After some time, when it was obvious that Vietnamese soup was not in his near future, Otto began to wander around the basement in search of food. It's not like he hadn't tried before, but when he did it was a bit on the half-hearted side. Otto was a pretty particular eater, and when he had his mind on eating a certain food, he held out for as long as he could for that food to come. So in his previous searches of the Hasselhoffer basement he merely waved his hand in the dark hoping that it brushed up against a morsel of something. Typically he'd wind up hitting his hand against a body bag and shortly thereafter he'd quit his search. Once he accidentally slapped himself. He's cheek stung for minutes.

But this time Otto was committed to the search. He reached out in the dark until he could find a wall, and then he slowly followed along its cool surface. Every once in a while he had to lift his feet over a body bag. "Man, there are a lot of body bags in here," Otto thought out loud. "This is way more than I've ever felt in anybody else's basement."

Eventually, Otto reached a part of the basement that both felt and smelled different. The area was warmer and smelled of something that resembled venison. Otto had never actually smelled venison, but he had often wondered what the meat would smell like. He came up with different possibilities for smells: a mix of chicken and pork; a mix of chicken and fish: and chicken. The smell he was smelling right now was like all those smells combined. With extra chicken. "Smells like venison," Otto murmured.

He reached out into the darkness, hoping to feel something other than a body bag, and after three of four reaches, he did. His fingers came upon a smooth metal surface. Fumbling in the dark he examined the metal surface with both hands and a knee. Soon he found what felt like a handle. "Could it be?" Otto thought out loud to himself. He slowly pulled on the handle and immediately he was blinded by a great light that came from within the metal surfaced thing. "It is!" he shrieked.

A refrigerator, Otto had found a refrigerator! And not just any refrigerator, but one stacked from top to bottom with what looked to be a fine selection of novelty meats. "Wow!" he thought out loud to himself. "There must be some Vietnamese soup in here somewhere."

But after minutes of searching, Otto could find no traces of Vietnamese soup in the refrigerator. He couldn't help but feel dejected. "What kind of basement full of body bags and novelty meats doesn't have Vietnamese soup?" he asked himself. "Shoot. This is the last time I ever hang out in this basement."

But after time, Otto's hunger pains won out, and he reluctantly opened up a package of hot dogs and began to eat them. "These better not be turkey dogs," Otto said out loud to himself. "I hate turkey dogs."

After a few nibbles Otto was relieved to find that the hot dogs were not made of turkey. "What a relief," he murmured to himself. Yet, still he couldn't quite place the taste. He considered labeling them "like chicken" but thought again because that is such a cliche. Otto tried to avoid cliches whenever he could. He was all about individuality and creativity. His Fubu wardrobe and Smurf collection were testaments to this.

But if not chicken, then what did the hot dogs taste like? His taste buds searched for an answer. They throbbed and engorged themselves on his tongue and attempted to make sense of the signals they were receiving. It had been a long haul for Otto's taste buds. Throughout his life, Otto had made them work overtime, for he was forever giving them strange new foods to taste. And these hot dogs were indeed a strange new food. So strange in fact, that they eventually lost their yearning for Vietnamese soup. "We must pin down what this strange hot dog tastes like," Otto's taste buds shouted.

Otto had never heard his taste buds speak before. All this time they had been in his mouth and only now he realized that they had their own emotions and language. The whole thing was a little scary, actually. "This is a little scary, actually," Otto said out loud to himself.

"Shut up," his taste buds yelled back, "we're tying to figure out what these strange hot dogs taste like."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt," Otto said to his taste buds, apologetically.

"Don't worry about it, just keep eating. We'll find the taste eventually," his taste buds replied.

"I thought my brain was the one who decided what things tasted like," Otto said.

"Frickin' brain," the taste buds said. "The brain always gets the credit. We're working hard here, and the brain is the considered the 'superstar'?"

Otto conversed with his taste buds for a while longer. He liked being able to talk to a body part and he wondered if any other parts of him could speak. He looked at his hand. "Hello, hand," he said. "How are you today?"

"Hey buddy, get a grip, you're talking to your hand," new voices suddenly said.

"Who said that?" Otto asked.

"It's us, your clavicles."

" Oh. Hi, clavicles," Otto said.

"Hey, man. What's shakin?" Otto's clavicles responded.

"Not much. Just stuck in a basement of some castle, eating strange tasting hot dogs. Same ole same ole, really.?

"Cool," Otto's clavicles said. "Listen, what would say to wearing shoulder pads a little more often?"

"Shoulder pads?" Otto asked.

"Yeah."

"Why shoulder pads?"

"Well, we think you could use some more protection in that region or your body."

"You do?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"No reason. We just are keen on feeling extra safe."

"So this is more about you than it is about me, then, right?"

"Well, no, because we are you: we're your clavicles. What's good for us is good for you."

"Why aren't you asking for clavicle pads, then?" Otto asked his clavicles.

"Have you ever heard of clavicle pads?" his clavicles asked back.

"No."

"We rest our case, then. Shoulder pads are the closest thing there are, so we'll have to go with that."

"I see."

"We talked it over with your shoulders and your scapulas and their cool with it, too," Otto's clavicles said.

"Oh," Otto said.

"So we just need to you take the next step."

"Which is?"

"Buying the shoulder pads, of course!" Otto's clavicles said with frustration. "Man, someone has clearly had one too many strange hot dogs."

And it appeared that indeed Otto had had one too many strange hot dogs. He'd just spent the last five hours talking to his taste buds and clavicles. Yes, there was definitely something very odd about these strange hot dogs he had eaten.

Yet, he felt compelled to keep on eating the strange hot dogs. It was as if his stomach was a bottomless pit built especially for strange hot dogs to fall into. Otto wasn't sure he was happy, but he wasn't sure he was sad either. He just calmly sat and ate. His mind on nothing else but eating the strange hot dogs and wondering what body part will start talking to him next.

***

Meanwhile back in the game room Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily and Count von Hasselhoffer waited for the police search to end.

"I'm getting bored of beating you at Pong," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily announced to Count von Hasselhoffer. She'd just won her twenty-seventh game in a row.

"Oh no you don't," Count von Hasselhoffer said. "You're not getting out of it that easily. I don't care if you're bored; we're not stopping until I beat you. I have a good feeling about this next game."

"Shouldn't you be worried about the dozens of policemen in your castle?" Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily asked.

"Ah, policemen/policeschmen," Count von Hasselhoffer said. "They search the castle all the time. They never find anything. They're just desperate, that's all. Especially Officer Shelton. He's had it out for me for years."

"Why is that?" Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily asked.

"Jealousy, envy, scorn," Count von Hasselhoffer said, "you name it and Officer Shelton feels it towards me. It's just a case of the haves and have nots. I'm the haver; he's the haver notter. Wait, that doesn't make sense, does it??

"I know what you mean anyway?"

"You do?"

"Yep."

"Man, you understand me like no one else I've ever met, Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily," Count von Hasselhoffer said.

"Thank you, Count von Hasselhoffer. I'm touched by that," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily responded.

"I just wish you weren't fifty years older than me," the Count lamented. "Then we could get married and live happily ever after."

To Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily, age was just another number. But she understood where Count von Hasselhoffer was coming from. By the time he'd be her age, she'd be 120, and she knew she couldn't expect Count von Hasselhoffer to care for someone that old. Why must she be drawn to much younger men? She should settle down with someone her own age, someone who she could share common ideas and outlooks on the world with. She was sick and tired of these kids and their video games. Oh how she yearned to play bingo and bridge! But who did she know who could fill this void and still keep giving her the good stuff in the bedroom?

Suddenly, a name flashed through her mind. It was a name she was quite familiar with, one she had tried to put out of her mind for quite some time. Yet now she knew it was impossible to resist. The name felt so right--so right in fact that it felt wrong. Oh, the pleasure and the pain the name exuded inside Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily's mind and loins:

Otto.

***

The search of Hasselhoffer castle continued to turn up few leads. But Officer Shelton was bent on finding something, anything, which would prove once and for all that Count von Hasselfhoffer was using his novelty meat factory for ill gain. Going over the map of the compound he discovered an area of the castle that had yet to be searched. He sensed this could be something, so he decided to investigate it himself.

Officer Shelton came to a big door. The door was big and heavy looking, like it had an important door-playing role. He knocked on it a couple times and waited. My, what a door, he thought. They don't make doors like that anymore. All the doors at my house suck. I'll never by a door from The Door Store ever again. I don't care how cute the customer sales people are. Oh, that Brenda. My, she was quite the cookie. Still, she won't be selling me any doors in the near future. Nosireee. I do wonder what she looks like naked, though.

After a sufficient amount of time with no response, Officer Shelton pulled open the big heavy door. He saw nothing but a staircase that led down into darkness. Hmm, he thought. Could this be a hidden basement? They police team had already searched a basement area, but this staircase seemed to lead to another. "Tricky, tricky, Count," Officer Shelton thought. "The big tricky Count needs to have two basements. I guess one basement isn't good enough for him. Man, Counts today with their multiple basements. Talk about living in excess."

And so Officer Shelton slowly proceeded down the dark staircase. He didn't know what to expect to find, but he sensed it would be something big and important that would break the case against Count von Hasselhoffer wide open. My name will be in the papers, Officer Shelton thought. I'll finally be somebody. I'll finally be as big and important as Count von Hasselfhoffer. I can't wait.

***

While in the process of eating his fifth case of strange tasting hot dogs, Otto discussed the latest news in reality television with his right patella.

"It was the only choice the other tribe members had," Otto's right patella said. "Rupert was too big a threat, and that was their best chance to evict him."

"But I loved Rupert," Otto said. "Everybody loved Rupert."

"Hey, man, the game isn't about love. It's about outwitting and outplaying and outlasting. You can't let your emotions come into play."

"I know, but still. I don't know who to root for now."

"I'm rooting for Lil," Otto's left patella chimed in.

"Shut up, man," Otto's right patella said. "You don't know what you talking about. Lil? Man, she is weak. She can't lie for jack."

"Still, I like her integrity," left patella said.

"Oh, man. It's clear you've had one too many scopes," right patella said. "You don't know which end is up anymore, do you? Lil won't last but a few more days. I say Sandra is the one to look out for. That girl plays to win."

Otto had trouble focusing on his patellae's discussion about Survivor. He still couldn't get past the fact that Rupert had been voted off. Plus, he was also weirded out about having a conversation with his patellae in the fist place. He tried to focus on something else, in hopes that his talking patellae would go away. Having body parts talk to you was kind of cool at first, but after a while it go a little too messed-up for its own good. As far as Otto knew, most body parts weren't supposed to be able to talk, so he began to realize that something might be wrong with him.

What was in those strange tasting hot dogs anyway? Otto wondered. Man are they ever addictive. But he had to get his mind off them. If he kept eating, he knew more body parts would start talking, and he didn't really care to hear about what his kidneys or earlobes had to say about the Dean campaign or Glenn Campbell's latest crisis.

So to take his mind of the strange tasting hot dogs, Otto tried to think of other things. He first tried thinking of waterfalls. He loved waterfalls. He thought they were lovely. But in no time he pictured strange tasting hot dogs cascading down a lovely waterfall, so he quickly tried to think of something else. Oddly enough, the first image that popped into his head was that of Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily's face.

He'd always recognized Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily's beauty. It was plain as day. Take away her club foot, her sun damaged complexion, and her wandering eye and she could have been a model. Not a model for Victoria's Secret, of course, but more like one you'd find in a supplemental ad for Walgreens in the Sunday papers. Otto pictured Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily posing with a large bottle of extra-strength Pepto-Bismol. He couldn't help but be aroused by the thought.

Suddenly, Otto heard another voice. "Hello, hello?" It asked. "Is anybody there?"

Oh great, Otto thought. What part of my body is speaking to me now? He hoped it wasn't his pelvis. He had nothing to say to his pelvis.

"Hello, anybody there?" the voice asked again.

"You're my pelvis, of course you know I'm here," Otto replied.

"Excuse me? Hello? I am Officer Shelton of the Hasselhofferania By-the Sea police department. Who goes there?"

"Listen, pelvis. You can't fool me. I think I'd know if my pelvis was a police officer."

"Sir, I'm not your pelvis," Office Shelton said. He moved through the dark towards the voice. He walked carefully as the floor seemed to be covered with large plastic bags that were full of something.

"You aren't?" Otto asked.

"No," Officer Shelton replied.

"Are you my shins?" Otto asked.

"No."

"My sternum?"

"No."

"My labia?"

"No. And I'm pretty sure you don't have any labia, sir."

"Oh, right, of course," Otto said. "I knew that."

Right then and there Otto knew that this voice came not from one of his body parts, but from an actual person with talking body parts of their own. Otto felt relieved to have a real live person to talk to.

"You wouldn't have any Vietnamese soup on you, would you?" he asked.

This post is dedicated to NaNoWriMo being mercilessly over.