Happy Thanksgiving. I'll be off eatin' and nappin' until next Monday, but here's another installment of my NaNoWriMo novel to hold you over before I go. Feel free to print it out and read out loud during your family's Thanksgiving dinner prayer. Or something. Enjoy!

While Count von Hasselhoffer and Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily were having hard and fast sex a new shadow fell upon the castle unbeknownstingly. It was the shadow of a human figure. A new human figure not before seen in this masterwork. Yes, it would seem ballsy of me to add yet another complex and compelling character to my novel that is already chock full of complex and compelling characters, but then again I am an incredibly ballsy writer who's almost been in the New Yorker. Sort of.

Introducing a new character also gives me an excuse to avoid returning to Otto and Officer Shelton in the basement because quite frankly I have no idea how the hell I'm going to get them out of there. Same goes for the Count and the Dame. I mean, they can't have hard and fast sex forever, but who knows what they'll do next? I'm sure in time the genius inside of me will come to the fore and I will know what next to do with the other characters, but until then screw 'em.

The new shadow that fell on the castle belonged to one Edith Stumplonia. Yes, her name has come up from time to time in this masterwork as she is Count Von Hasselhoffer's rival for the post of Registrar Probate for Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea. Stumplonia had held that position for the previous seventeen years prior to now. That is she's been Registrar Probate of Hasselhofferania for seventeen (17) years. That's a long time. It's like almost a dozen and half years. Wow.

But even though she's been on the job for quite a while (5 + 5 + 5 + 2 years!) her body was still booming. She was sex incarnate. Everything about Edith Stumplonia oozed and leaked sex. She was one fine mamasita, she was. Even her shadow was sexy, as all the other shadows in Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea wanted to do her shadow something fierce. Even fence shadows, who everyone assumed were gay. But they're not; that's just a false stereotype often leveled against fence shadows. My masterwork seeks to correct false stereotypes that so tragically ruin the psyche and minds of people and shadows and kitchen appliances everywhere.

But what was Edith Stumplonia doing lurking around the castle? Good question! I'm glad you asked. And although it might appear I am stalling because I also don't know what she's doing lurking around the castle, that is not the case! Nope, not at all...Did I mention how she's been Registrar Probate of Hasselhofferaia By-the-Sea for seventeen years? I did? Oh. Well, she has -- and that's the very reason she's outside lurking around Count von Hasselhoffer's castle!

"I will not lose my seat to some spoiled Count who lives in a castle," Edith mumbled to herself as she and her sexy-ass shadow lurked around. "I'll show him where to stick his kielbasa."

Edith was mad. She had never had a strong challenger challenge her for her job. Election after election she had won in landslide after landslide. But this year was different. This year there was a challenger challenging her for her job and the chances of her landslide were pretty much non-existent. So she was mad. After all this time (seventeen years!) she felt the job was hers and hers alone. She was the best Registrar Probate Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea had seen in easily the last seventeen years and she was offended that someone would be so bold as to challenge her.

"Seventeen years," Edith mumbled as she made her up the castle steps. "Seventeen years."

Edith wasn't going to let those seventeen years go to pot. That's why she was carrying with her a meatloaf laced with psychotic drugs. Her plan was to offer it to Count von Hasselhoffer as a token of goodwill, and then watch his campaign fall apart on account he'd be on a massive dose of psychotic drugs and trippin' like crazy. She wasn't sure just what he'd do to ruin is campaign, but she felt safe in knowing that the psychotic drugs would cause him to do something stupid and detrimental to his chances of becoming Registrar Probate of Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea.

So bent on this plan was Edith Stumplonia that she failed to notice all the police cars outside the Hasselhoffer Castle. So too did she fail to notice the policeman who was standing by the front door.

"Ma'am, ca I help you?" the policeman asked her. He was tall and handsome and had a pet dog named Bruce.

"Seventeen years," Edith Stumplonia mumbled to herself.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" The policemen asked her.

"Seventeen years."

"Ma'am the castle is under a police investigation at the moment."

"4 + 4 + 4 + 4 + 1 years."

"If you'd like I'll take that delicious looking meat loaf and deliver it to the Count once we're through turning his castle upside down."

"3 x 5 +...Meatloaf?" Edith Stumplonia asked. "How'd you know I had meatloaf for the Count?"

"Well, because for one thing you're holding it between your legs."

"Oh. Yes, I am."

"Yes, you are."

"Sorry."

"No problem, ma'am," the policeman said. "It looks delicious."

"Oh, I assure you it is delicious," Edith Stumplonia replied. "And I know a good meatloaf when I've had one."

"I bet you do," the policeman said, fiddling with his nightstick.

"That's quite a big nightstick you got there," Edith said.

"Oh, it's all right. Gets the job done," the policeman answered.

(I should note that just because there seems to be some sexual innuendo in this conversation it doesn't necessarily mean that that's the case. If I wanted to write wicked awesome dialogue full of sexual innuendo I could. But as I've repeated over and over and over again I don't wish to that with this masterwork of mine. Writing is about taking risks and venturing into new realms of your craft that you've never before ventured into. I've written so many erotically charged stories that it would be silly of me to pretend that writing sexual innuendo-charged dialogue would be new to me. Because it's not. So even though this conversation between Edith Stumplonia and the policemen might look as though it is charged with sexual innuendo, it's not. Honest.)

"I bet it does. What kinds of things do you do with that nightstick of yours?" Edith asked.

"Oh, this and that," the policeman answered.

"Oooo. Sounds important."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Neat."

"Yep."

"Wait -- are we talking about your penis?"

"Um…I don't know. Are we?"

"I'm not sure."

"Me neither."

And then an awkward pause cast over their conversation. Edith Stumplonia hated awkward pauses. In her seventeen years as Registrar Probate of Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea she sought to avoid awkward pauses in conversation with all her might. She found awkward pauses in conversation very awkward, so often times she'd break them by exposing her ample bosoms to whoever she was awkwardly pausing with.

"I would like to show you my ample bosoms," Edith said. The words spit out of her as if she had been keeping them a secret for too long.

"You would?"

"Yes."

"Um...here?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

And with that Edith removed her Red Sox World Champion sweatshirt and showed the policeman, who had a dog named Bruce, the most ample bosoms he had ever seen in his life. He was transfixed by them and soon Edith knew that she had the young policeman under her spell.

"I'd like to see the Count now, please," she said.

"Okay," the policemen answered. "Right this way, ma'am."

He showed her into the castle foyer and pointed to the stairwell.

"He's up there in his bedroom," the policeman said."Fourth door on the left."

"Thank you," Edith said, still flashing her ample bosoms at the policemen.

At the bottom of the stairwell, she looked up at awe of the majestical stair adorned with kielbasa shaped emeralds. The power and decadence that lay before her was a testament to how hard it would be to defeat Count von Hasselhoffer and his decadent power.

But at that moment there were pressing concerns for Edith: how would she convince the Count to eat the psychotic-laced meatloaf? How would she hide the evidence once the Count started tripping out? And most importantly, how the hell was she going to climb those majestical stairs with a meatloaf between her legs?

Finis de Part VIII.

This post is dedicated to stuffing.