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QG's Untitled NaNo Project

Started by Q. G. Pennyworth, October 17, 2013, 03:08:53 PM

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Q. G. Pennyworth

1500 words a day starting November 1st

IMPORTANT NOTE: Unlike other threads, my posts here are not kopyleft.

The Good Reverend Roger

" It's just that Depeche Mode were a bunch of optimistic loveburgers."
- TGRR, shaming himself forever, 7/8/2017

"Billy, when I say that ethics is our number one priority and safety is also our number one priority, you should take that to mean exactly what I said. Also quality. That's our number one priority as well. Don't look at me that way, you're in the corporate world now and this is how it works."
- TGRR, raising the bar at work.

LMNO

Other than a nice mnemonic, I don't know why this is in November.  For the most part, the days around Thanksgiving are useless for writing.


LMNO
-Started thrice, never finished.

Q. G. Pennyworth

Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on October 17, 2013, 03:45:58 PM
Other than a nice mnemonic, I don't know why this is in November.  For the most part, the days around Thanksgiving are useless for writing.


LMNO
-Started thrice, never finished.

No idea. I've only made one solid attempt at it, but this year I've got the kids in on it too, so maybe we'll all keep each other accountable.

Mesozoic Mister Nigel

"I'm guessing it was January 2007, a meeting in Bethesda, we got a bag of bees and just started smashing them on the desk," Charles Wick said. "It was very complicated."


Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.

Weevil-Infested Badfun Wrongsex Referee From The 9th Earth
Slick and Deranged Wombat of Manhood Questioning
Hulking Dormouse of Lust and DESPAIRâ„¢
Gatling Geyser of Rainbow AIDS

"The only way we can ever change anything is to look in the mirror and find no enemy." - Akala  'Find No Enemy'.

Q. G. Pennyworth

The name on the chart read "Jane Doe." Dr. Kuntsler flipped through the notes again, re-familiarizing himself with the details of the case. A smile cracked across his bearded face. While it was sad that this girl didn't seem to have any family out looking for her, she was in good health and had been spending her days cheering up some of the other children in the pediatric ward. All the nurses seemed to love her, even though she was constantly underfoot. It was nice dealing with a patient who would almost certainly go on to live a happy, normal life. 53 inches, 66 pounds, normal BMI, no bruising, abrasions, broken bones or trauma, no infections... with the exception of her apparent total retrograde amnesia and irregular patch of thickened skull she seemed almost too healthy. Paget's disease had been considered, but with no pain or elevated alkaline phosphatase levels in the bloodwork, he had decided to take a "wait and see" approach.
The patient's memory had not recovered, but her vocabulary and cognitive ability were truly impressive for any child. He'd guessed at an age of 9 based on height and weight, although it was just a guess. She didn't show any signs of oncoming puberty, but the general knowledge she posessed seemed a little much for a kid that age. Her speech (now that she was talking) was clear and didn't contain much in the way of slang, which led him to conclude that she'd probably grown up in a loving household somewhere and been educated, but if that was the case where were the parents?
She'd been brought in on February 12th, a little after 9 pm. A homeless woman said she'd found the girl curled up in a dumpster, wrapped in some dirty sheets. The ER staff knew the woman, and at 73 it was pretty unlikely she was abandoning her own kid, so they'd let her off after she gave a statement for the police. The girl was, according to the notes, pretty feral when she came in. Dirty, snarled and matted hair, non-verbal, no clothing besides the filthy sheets. There was some concern that she may have been on some kind of drugs based on her behavior, but the bloodwork came up negative. The initial psych evaluation didn't yield much: she was scared and confused and didn't seem to understand anything that was being said to her. Fortunately, things turned around in the following days, and it wasn't long before she was chatting up the nursing staff and making friends with the other kids.
Her hair, he mused. That was the other thing. They'd had no choice but to crop it short when she came in. He'd assigned one of his residents to look for some kind of condition that would cause rapid hair growth but so far no luck. Maybe it was one of those usless powers. Not everyone gets to punch through buildings, you know.

He flipped the pages back down and pushed the door open.
"Hi Dr. Kumsler!" a little girl shouted. She abandoned the nurse whose hair she'd been brainding, jumped off the stool and ran over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his coat. He toussled her hair, which had already grown out almost to her chin, thick and black and bouncy.
"How are you feeling today?"
"I'm mad!" she yelled with a smile, which she quickly swapped out for a scowl when she realized it. She let him go and crossed her arms and let out a loud "harumph."
"What's wrong?"
"Nurse [BLAH] won't give me a name! She said she couldn't think of one so I told her to sit down and think about it and then I got bored so I started braiding her hair."
"I see, do you think we can let her go now?"
"I guess."
"So, you don't like Jane?"
"It's a fake name! Everyone will know I don't have a real name and they'll make fun of me."
"Did you ask any of the other staff?"
"Yeah, but they all had dumb ideas. You should give me one."
"Me?"
"You're smart, right? That's why you get the fancy coat."
"Um..." he stalled. "What about Mary?"
"Ew." She scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Nurse [SOMEONE] suggested that one already."
"It's my mother's name," he said defensively.
"Well I think it's boring."
"Hmmm, what about Abigail?"
"Ebigail?"
"Abigail," he repeated. "Like Abigail Adams, the First Lady."
"I like Ebigail better."
"I don't think that's really a name."
"Ebigail, Ebigail, Ebigail!" she chirped defiantly, grin spreading wider with each repitition.
"Well, Ebigail," she beamed with utter delight as he said it. "It's time for us to start talking about what your next steps are after you leave the Hospital."
"But I don't want to leave!" she panicked. "I don't know anybody out there and I don't have any normal people clothes and I don't know who my mom and my dad are and maybe nobody knows me at all and I'll be all alone forever and have to live in a dumpster!"
"No one's going to make you live in a dumpster," the doctor soothed. "It's true we don't know who your parents are or where they might be, but we don't just send kids out to fend for themselves. You're going to be talking to Jacki later today, and it will be her job to find you a family to stay with." Ebigail did not seem pleased with this. "You know Jacki, right?"
"Yeah," she grumbled. "She's the one with the fancy shoes." She scuffed the floor with her own unshod feet, rubber grips on the bottoms squeaking on the smooth linoleum. He found himself thinking of the patent leather shoes one of his patients had worn the day she was admitted to the hospital, and the bag that her parents carried them home in later when all was said and done. He shook away the memory.
She was staring at him, doe-eyed. Everyone in the ward had noticed those strange eyes, but there was nothing to link the appearance to a medical condition and -- like her odd hair growth and thick patch of skull bone -- it didn't seem to affect her at all. They were striking blue-green, not a solid color but strong flecks of blues and greens from sea-foam to emerald jumbled together randomly across both irises. The color was stubborn and did not change with the light like normal eyes of green or blue, and it was more than a little disconcerting.
It couldn't be helped, though. As much as he might want to spend more time on an oddball case like hers, there were children who desperately needed his help right outside the door. Lives that could hinge on his efforts, and no idiot in a costume could save them. The strange times were hard on everyone, but most of all the people who could not defend themselves.
"What's it like out there, Dr. Kumsler?" she asked, mispronouncing his name again.
"Honestly, Ebigail," he sighed. "It's kind of a mess."