As you may know, I’ve been having a little bit of trouble with my NaNo story.

Oh, all right. It’s a snarky, arrogant jackass who thinks it knows everything and thinks very little of harassing me while I’m trying to work on it, telling me I’m doing this or that wrong, and then generally engaging in deviant behavior. I’m pretty sure it’s spray-painting my garage as we speak.

Still, I’m 31,000 words in, which isn’t bad. I’m nowhere near where I wanted to be – I was thinking 35,000 by the weekend, except I wrenched my back and have been damn near immobile since Saturday afternoon – but it’s a respectable number. Hey, it’s the NaNo experience.

Except then Story’s younger brother, whom we’ll call Pipedream, came waltzing in with In n Out. He dropped the cheeseburger on my desk, perched on the edge next to it, and said, “Yo. Write this down.”

Pipedream is bad news. I’m pretty sure he smokes weed and engages in other deviant behavior. But he’s just so tempting. He’s like the bad boy your mother tells you to stay away from. I bet he’s got tattoos and a leather jacket.

He also likes zombies.

Bad, bad news.