I'm finding NaNoWriMo to be particularly difficult this year. Not sure what it is, maybe it's because I've been doing nothing but playing video games in my free time. You'd think playing in front of my television for hours on end would inspire me to write thousands and thousands of high-end fair-to-middling prose, but alas that's not the case. Anyway, I've somehow managed to squeak out Part VIII of my epic NaNoWriMo masterwork, Innocuous Kielbasa: Putting the Sex-Type Thing On, Vol. 1. Enjoy.

(For those of you who'vve been slacking off and wish to get up to spped on the story here are the previous entries: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, and Part VII).

***

Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Suddenly that was all who Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily could think about. She couldn't get the name of her underling out of her head. But why? Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily was so confused. She had said his name to herself 54 times. No wait - 55 times: Otto. There, that's much better, she thought. Odd number are so much more reassuring.

Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily had suffered from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder all her life. It was her great secret. Had it not been for how she was constantly washing her hands and fiddling with the zippers of other people's trousers it would have been her great secret to herself. But the whole world knew about it. How could they not, with her constantly zipping and unzipping the fly of their pants? Still, Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily pretended that it was her and no one else who knew about her condition.

"You mind if you let me zip up my pants on my own," Count von Hasselhoffer said. They had just had sexual relations.

"Oh, sorry," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily said jerking her hands away from the Count's crotch.

"Thanks. You know you really might want to get that whole thing checked out," he said.

"What thing?" Dame Maggie asked.

"Your obsessive compulsive thing."

"I don't know what you're talking about?."

"Oh, come on. You're constantly fiddling with other people's zippers. Everyone knows this."

"Sorry, but I don't see what you mean," the Dame said dismissively. "You're just making this up because I've beaten you at Pong 37 times in a row."

"36 times. And I'm not making it up. You have a thing about zippers."

"No, it was 37 times. I'm sure of it. I counted. And counted again. And again. You know, just to make sure. It's 37 times. 37 times. I'm sure of it!"

"Um. Okay. Whatever," Count von Hasselhoffer said. "So I let you beat me 37 times in a row. No biggie."

"Oh, stop being such a baby," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily responded. "I won fair and square. So what if I'm better in Pong than you? That didn't stop from you having sex on me just now."

"True. But me having sex on you has nothing to do with me letting you beat me in Pong."

The Count was an incredibly competitive person, particularly when it came to Pong. He fancied himself the best Pong player in all of Hasselhofferania By-the-Sea. He'd won numerous tournaments during his life, and felt as though he owned the game. But now he wasn't so sure. Maybe he wasn't that good at it? Yes, his father had fixed all the tournaments by insuring all the qualifiers were either blind or thumb-less, but still some of those games were close, and the Count had truly thought he had earned those victories fair and square. However, here was his first sighted and thumbed competitor and she had killed him. None of the games featured any significant rallies and the scores were never close. Suddenly, the Count felt his world starting to crumble. That's what compelled him to have sex on Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily. After discovering that she was 50 years older than he was he had vowed never to have sex on her again, but he had to somehow display his strength to her once more, to prove to her that the Pong catastrophe was an aberration, and that he was a very powerful man full of power and sex and power.

And so they did it. They did it hard and fast. I would tell you just how hard and fast they did it, but like I have mentioned earlier I don't wish this masterwork of mine to veer towards the erotic because that's too easy of a style for me. I could make my prose drip with eroticism with a wink of my eye, but I don't wish to do so here. So I won't. Instead I'll just say again that they did it hard and fast and when it was over the Count didn't feel nearly as powerful as he had hoped he would.

"How will I ever have the strength to be Hasselhoffernia's Registrar Probate should I win the upcoming election?" he whispered to himself.

"What's that?" Dame Maggie said, taking a break from counting the number of bullets in her gun.

"Nothing," Count von Hasselhoffer sighed.

"What's with the gun?" he asked her.

"Just counting the bullets," she replied. "Nothing special."

"Didn't know you had a gun."

"Well, I do. Makes me feel safe."

"Cool."

"Yep."

"How'd you hide it during the cops' cavity search?"

"Oh, I have my ways."

"Wild stuff."

"Yep."

Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. his name over and over again. 55 times. She held the barrel of her gun close to her heart. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. Otto. 55 times again. Wow. She's thought of his name a lot.

But why? What did it mean? For years Otto had been simply her underling. Yes, he was her cousin, too, but mainly his role in her life was of an underling. He was a damn fine underling, but then again that's not saying much; an underling is an underling is an underling. Whether he's your cousin or not. Still, his name lingered in her mind over and over again. Then that new song by Nelly and Tim McGraw came into her mind. She kinda liked it. Didn't think she would when she heard the two would be recording together, but she found the result quite catchy. She wound up liking the song even more after reading in Entertainment Weekly how both Nelly and Tim McGraw were both Democrats. It surprised Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily to learn the Tim McGraw was not a Republican. She thought all country singers (Dixie Chicks and Willie Nelson excluded) were Republicans. She was glad to see that that was not the case.

"I think you need to have sex on me gain," Dame Maggie Percival Chatterlily announced.

"You do?" the Count asked with befuddlement.

"Yep."

She needed to clear her mind of Otto. Getting sexed on by the Count would be one way to do that she figured. Plus she also had that Nelly and Tim McGraw song in her head now, and she knew before long she'd start to hate it if it hung around in her mind much longer.

"Okay, then, let me take off my pants," the Count said.

"No, allow me," the Dame said. And with that she eagerly propelled her hands towards his zipper.

Shortly thereafter they had some more hard and fast sexual relations that I really don't want to get into the specifics of.

End of Part VIII.