NaNo Writing Challange! 2006-2

[alison-sky.livejournal.com]

Here's the idea for the week. Minimum 500 words. Does not have to have anything to do with your NaNo... in fact, it's probably better if it's not.

Genre: any

Characters:
Boss - anyone
Worker - anyone

Scene: The worker has been called into the boss' office. Something's going down, and the worker isn't sure what's happening, but he/she knows some secret of the boss' that might come into effect if needed.

Stipulations: I want the following worked into the scene

a frisbee
a reference to Frankenstein
a poodle

.... hey, I said it was a challenge! Now get writing!

Comments

Part I

[syaffolee.livejournal.com]

Okay, here's what I got. I also tried this in first person which I usually don't do. This is posted in two parts. I also don't reference Frankenstein by name, but it's there.

* * *

There were times when I believed that having a mad scientist for an advisor was not such a bright idea. Like today. It was by no stretch of the imagination that Dr. Craighorn's mood-o-meter had tipped from insane to irate when he sent an e-mail demanding that I see him in his office at noon, sharp. He even included an image attachment of a smiley face being roasted alive by another smiley face with horns and a pitchfork.

My stomach growled. Oh why did it have to be noon? I had missed breakfast because I had overslept. Damn those evil-overlord majors and their late night techno parties.

"Hey, hey, hey," chirped Alden from the other side of the lab bench. His eyes were covered by a pair of goggles. In one hand was a part of a circuit breaker. The other hand had part of a human arm. "What's got you so down, Des?"

I was tempted to snarl that it was none of his business and that electrocuting a patchwork corpse was so 1818, but I managed to turn my face into a civil grimace. "Craighorn wants to see me."

"Ooooo. You're goin' down."

"Shut up, Alden. I know you like wearing ladies' unmentionables."

"Everyone knows I wear ladies' unmentionables. The question is, does Craighorn know?"

Something about Alden's rhetorical question triggered something in the back of my mind. Something about a website and some logged IPs...

I found myself grinning. "Oh, I'm sure Craighorn knows. He thinks he knows everything. But I've got eyes too."

My labmate frowned, suspicious. "I don't trust that look on your face."

"Don't diss the face. I've got to have some sort of expression when the boss is going to deliver the smackdown." I checked my watch. Five minutes until the lion's den. "Well, wish me luck. I'm going in."

"No way," Alden called out as I walked to the door of the lab. "I'm saving all my luck for the time he orders me into his office."

The laboratory was separated from my advisor's office by a sparse concrete hallway lit by bare bulbs dangling from wires in the ceiling. The faculty kept on harping about getting funds to renovate the place but as far as I knew, none of them had the guts to go to administration to demand it. At the end of the hallway was a window--a bit grimy--but I could see the athletic field across from the lab building. The razor frisbee team was having their practice. Deadly yellow discs whizzed across the air to decapitate poodle-shaped straw targets.

I turned back to look at the closed door of Craighorn's office and gulped. Despite my bravado in front of Alden, I was feeling a bit like one of those straw poodles.

Part II

[syaffolee.livejournal.com]

I knocked.

"Come in."

My advisor was one of those stout, burly men who liked to wear short sleeves just to show off arm hair. He was sitting behind his desk. His beard and hair was unkempt, as usual. The surface of the desk was littered with papers and spare robotic parts. But what really made the sweat trickle down the nape of my neck was his posture--ramrod straight, hands clasped in front. His red-rimmed eyes regarded me hawkishly as he curtly told me to take a seat.

"How is your project going?" he asked.

"It's going as planned, although I have a few glitches," I began. "But I'm trying to work them out. I just have to do some programming..." I babbled a bit about coding and optimization as well as trying to rationalize my robot aesthetic design--but then I just petered out.

Craighorn stared at me for a couple of moments. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and wrapped my arms around my middle to keep them from shaking.

Suddenly, he threw something at my head.

"Ow!"

The papers slid down my face and into my lap. It was an article from the research journal Un-Nature. At a brief scan of the abstract, all I could tell was that some scientists in Japan had managed to condition squid to swarm onto populated beaches by sonar.

"Cephalopod control is going to be hot research!" Craighorn exploded. "We've got to get on the bandwagon before it's jumped the shark!" He pounded his fist on the desk, sending a prototype robotic brain crashing to the floor. "And you, Des, are going to start a new project! I want you to put in an order for some Mesonychoteuthis hamiltoni by the end of this week!"

I slumped back into the chair with a whoosh of breath. So, he was insane and not irate after all. Squid, I can handle. And as for that website, well, it'll stay as a backup plan. For now.

Re: Part II

[danielefton.livejournal.com]

yes! - i wish that lj allowed you to syndicate rss into your personal journal so that i could follow your stuff without having to add a bazillion feeds to my friends list.

i like your style very much