Day 106. 78 pages, 34,688 words. Really got sod-all written over the weekend.
“Look,” I tried one last time, “going where? We know nothing about this adventure. We don’t know what the 1500 was, what it is now, or where to find it. We can’t just go down into the sewers and start poking around. It could mean anything. For all we know, it’s something that happened at three o’clock in the afternoon somewhere.”
Creepy waved a hand, almost dropping his sushi before popping it in his mouth.
“Details,” he slurred dismissively.
It never ceases to amaze me that some people can say details in that unconcerned tish-and-pish manner, as if the details are not the actual main thing about whatever issue said people are about to make a huge mess of. If someone said to me “hey, let’s do a thing,” I’d want to know the details. Having learned that the details were “put poisonous snakes down our pants, walk into a biker bar and start crotch-bumping people,” I would not wave a dismissive hand and say “details”. Because the details weren’t just incidental pointless tangential stuff. They were details. That’s why there were details, and irrelevant side-facts, and the two were not the same.
“Fine,” I said, “we’re on the quest. What do we do now?”
“I’m glad you’re finally seeing sense,” he congratulated me.
“Sure,” I said, “sense. That’s what this is. Good. Now, where to?”
“Aha,” Creepy immediately confirmed he had no idea by saying. “Don’t you see, Hatboy?”
“You can’t reveal that to me for some reason,” I guessed, “probably to do with giving me the chance to figure it out myself in order to improve my reasoning and deductive skills in comparison to yours, or hone my adventuring instincts.”
“Exactly!” Creepy congratulated me. “Very good, now take the next step.”
I went to bed.
After a very pleasant afternoon’s rest I was briefly awakened by the sounds of Creepy attempting to stealthily leave the house, the roars and cheers and laughter of Creepy falling afoul of the Barbarians across the road, and the wet splatting as a nagilabeast-blood-drenched Creepy tried – once again unsuccessfully – to sneak back into the house. I went back to sleep for a while but Creepy was still decidedly damp and even greasier than usual when I finally came down for afternoon tea.
“What happened to you?” I asked mildly, putting on some water for noodles.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he managed to bluster.
I shrugged. “If I had to test my reasoning and deductive skills,” I said, “I’d guess you tried to sneak across the road to find out what the Barbarians knew about the lost 1500 so you could then pretend to have known all along, and Yoru caught you and dunked you in his kiddy-pool while all the others stood around and laughed, and you have since discovered that nagilablood isn’t water soluble. But you let me know as soon as you crack the case. I’ll be having afternoon tea in the garage.”