I, Effing Feline, am in trouble with my pet human, Edward Hoornaert, aka Mr Valentine. Although I wrote up this post last week, thus earning a week’s worth of petting, I forgot to add a link to it on the Weekend Writing Warriors page, and so only a few people read it.
I feel bad about the mistake. Don’t tell Mr V that, of course; it’s bad for my image as a cat. I’m trying to make up for my mistake by using this post again, WITH the link.
The heroine, Dusty, is a tech writer working with alien Kwadrans on a interstellar spaceship prototype. A bomb has been planted in the ships’s machinery, and she thinks she knows where. When she reaches the narrow tunnel, she finds a man trapped there.
His first words to her are, “Take off my pants.”
“You waste precious time,” he complained. “My pants are caught on something and I can’t move; they’re unbuckled, but I haven’t managed more than that. So pull my pants down, and hurry—that’s an order!”
“Order?” If she laughed, she’d tumble head-first into hysteria and be useless, so she held herself to a nervous chuckle, instead.
“I’m staring at an Adidas shoe box jammed between some wires,” the man said.
Her chuckle died a gasping death. “The bomb?”
“I think so. Now pull down my pants!”
Effing Feline again. The mouthy heroine is a technical writer. Mr. V was a technical writer. In my purrsonal opinion, he’s working absurdly hard to glorify his former profession.
Make sure you read the snippets by other great weekend writing warriors.
Alien Contact for Heroines will be Book 4 in the Alien Contact for Idiots series. Book 3 is currently with beta readers.