Turns out, exactly halfway through page ninety-nine is where my novel starts to deteriorate and become just a random spew of my brain that involves the characters getting into a ghetto fight and talking about feminism among other things. It was really late and the last few days of NaNo. I can't really make an excuse other than that.
Even though people will be all 'WHAT NOW.' when they read it, I feel like it gives insight to kinda what kinda sorta goes on inside my brain. :D
Without further ado...
"No," he shuddered. "She seemed a bit crazy and...clingy. I didn't want to have her near me."
"Well, she's showing how crazy she can be." Nesca smiled at the both of them.
"A fan club, though?" Chemile raised his eyebrows. "I know you're amazing and all, but do you really need a fan club?"
"I guess he does." Nesca patted Quintille's head. "And I'm going to be the first person besides her to join it. Just to piss you off."
"You wouldn't dare."
"I'll lead them right to your door and everything. You know... unless you decide to make me a mayor."
"I told you I would think about it."
"I bet she's wondering where you live. I'll just head on home and send her a message to tell her your room number."
"OH HELL NAWWWWWWWWW." Quintille took off his earrings and handed them to Chemile. "Hold my earrings for me. This is going to get messy."
They then started circling each other like sumos and Quintille body slammed Nesca to the ground.
Chemile clapped like the good little first lady he was and then gave Quintille his earrings back. He suddenly poofed into an evening gown and struck a pose. "Quintille and Chemile one, Nesca ZEROOOOOOOOOO."
Nesca got up and tried to catch a fish, but started crying instead. "All those sumo lessons. For nothing."
"I was always the stronger one," Quintille said over his shoulder. "I always beat you in fights."
"I guess they were right, back in the day. Girls are weaker than guys."
"NO YOU DIDN'T." Chemile gasped. "Anti-feminist alert! Sound the alarms!" He took off his earrings and handed them to Quintille.
"Oh no, not again."
They started to circle each other. Somehow, Chemile slipped and fell on his face. Lue sat on his head.
Can't you tell exactly where it started falling apart?
So that's that page of my novel, and I can assure you that it only gets worse after that. Chemile starts mingling like a trophy wife and they die and Quintille turns Jamaican and starts talking about starting a bobsledding team and I break the fourth wall and loin cloths and Harry Potter and Jesus and good golly I forgot about all that. This was fabulous, let's do it again soon. Preferably with a page BEFORE ninety-nine.
