Yes, I know I didn’t do ROW80 on Sunday. Alls fair, I was in a house with no internet at all, and it would not have been pretty if I’d done the update on my phone.
I’ll do my ROW80 update first, since it’s easy. I’ve done nothing. All of this….
1. Fallen from Grace: write 1 chapter a week (moving week excluded)
2. Promo: Answer three interview questions a day until done
3. Promo: Write out a guest post a week until done
4. Lovely, Dark, and Deep short story needs to be written/plotted 2k a day due Aug 31st
5. Paranormal Romance short story 2k/day due Aug 9th
…and nothing. It’s moving week, so I feel I’m excluded from keeping up with my goals (since that was intended when I created the goals). I’m still packing, and packing, and packing. I just had a quick trip up to Montana, and now I’m moving on Friday. So…more packing. Yup…that’s my ROW80 update.
I do have something for WIPpet.
You get 12 sentences following (kind of) what you saw last week from Fallen from Grace. Grace is still at the hoarders house. There’s a bit in between, but you should be able to follow.
My math? 16-6 = 9 + 4 = 13 – 1 = 12 simple…right? Uh huh… so here we go…
She was just about to walk back in when Toulouse arrived on the scene. Grace changed her direction and headed toward his cruiser. Waiting until he was parked and out of the vehicle, she ran down what she knew.
“Animal Control called us out to assist in a seizure warrant. The owner is known to be violent.”
“You smell like horse shit, Halling.”
“No, sir. I smell like cat shit and piss,” she answered without stopping. She continued, “I found the owner in the second bedroom on the ground. He’s half eaten from the cats, no doubt hungry since they weren’t being fed. His body is cold and stiff. They’re sending someone out.”
Toulouse pinched his nose and shook his head at her. “Really, Halling. You have shit all over your face and in your hair.”
“I’m well aware. Owner is Barry Glowner. The info we have on him says he’s sixty-three years old, lives here by himself, and keeps to himself. Hinds was getting contact information for his daughter last I checked.”
“Go home,” Toulouse said.
“Go home. Take a shower, or two, or three. Then get a clean uniform and make sure you wash that one a dozen times. Then come back to finish out your shift. I’ll expect your report by end of day tomorrow.”
Grace sighed. She looked at her cruiser and felt the pull of a hot shower to clean up. She felt torn in two directions. One way was the nice hot shower and gallon of soap she desperately wanted. The other way was back to the house to capture the rest of the cats. Grace licked her lips, immediately regretted it and stared up at her curly haired Sergeant.
“I think I’ll stick around and help them out for a bit. I’m already all nastified anyway. What could it hurt?”
Toulouse gave her a nod, and Grace headed back toward the house and dead owner.