Untitled NaNoWriMo Story

For today’s post, I thought I’d share the 1067 words that I wrote for NaNoWriMo in 2009.  I really wasn’t sure where the rest of the story was going, I assumed that it would come to me as I was writing.  Improvise.  Let the words flow, and the ideas will take form as I was typing.  In theory, I can think faster than I can type, right?

I never wrote any more to the story.  Here it is, the beginning of what was supposed to be my novel…  If you like it, or laughed, or whatever, please add some comments at the bottom.  Maybe your comments will give me the spark to add to the story?

Untitled NaNoWriMo Story

The day started off so normally.  It could’ve been any Wednesday on the calendar, nothing special planned that day.  My alarm clock started playing 106.3 FM at 6:00AM.  Justin Timberlake started singing about how he was bringing sexy back.


6:09AM, the Plain White T’s were asking Delilah to tell them about how it was in New York City.


6:18AM, the local schlock-jock was shouting at me about how he didn’t have a productive bowel movement before he came to work, but he’d take care of that during these messages from my local sponsors.


6:27AM, Beyonce started singing about how if I like it, all I have to do is put a ring on it. That’s what got me to sit up in bed instead of hitting the snooze button again.  Chloe was still breathing deeply next to me.

6:28AM, I took care of the productive bowel movement that the DJ couldn’t seem to handle, and two intriguing articles in Sports Illustrated later, I was in the shower.

6:47AM, I was echoing Britney Spears about how much of a womanizer he is while I toweled off.  Chloe didn’t seem to find it humorous that a naked me was shaking his junk near the bed we share while singing along to Britney.  There are times when I think that Chloe really should lighten up and have some fun.  If she’s going to be so serious and fuddy-duddy all the time, we’ll never make it in the long run.  No fear, though, she’ll come around.  Especially after I pop the question Friday night.

7:02AM, I was in the kitchen, pouring my Honey Nut Cheerios into a bowl, when Chloe came staggering out of our bedroom, still in her PJs.  I greeted her with my usual “Good morning, m’dear!” as I handed her a cup of black coffee.  She returned the greeting with her usual non-communicative grunt, dropping into a chair at the dinette table, more interested in her coffee than me at this hour.  Not to worry, though, she’ll come around.  Especially after the caffeine kicks in after 3…2…1…

7:04AM, Chloe mumbles a “Morning” back to me.  That’s about all I can expect from her before the first cup of coffee is downed.

7:05AM, I’m slurping the honey-flavored milk out of my bowl, no more Cheerios to be found, and Chloe is peering at me over the rim of her Hello Kitty coffee mug with a look that can only be described as blatant contempt.  No concern, though, she’ll come around.  This was part of our daily routine.

7:06AM, Chloe puts her mug down on the table, and says to me, “Jake, we need to talk.”


It’s never good when your girlfriend tells you that we need to talk.  There are only a handful of possible sequences that can come out of her mouth after that.  I’ll run through them briefly with you in multiple-choice format, and you can guess which one Chloe presented to me that Wednesday morning.

Option A: “Jake, I’m pregnant.”

Option B: “Jake, I think we need to take this relationship to the next level.”

Option C: “Jake, your roommate made a pass at me and I’m uncomfortable staying in your apartment with him around.”

Option D: “Jake, this coffee is for shit, can we switch back to Starbucks?”

Option E: “Jake, all of the above.”

I could handle any of the options, A through E, because, let’s face it:

Jake’s response to Option A: “Seriously?  For real?  That’s incredible!  I can’t wait to raise our child! I love you so much! Of course, I want to raise our child in a proper family environment… will you marry me?”

Jake’s response to Option B: “Chloe, I was going to wait until Friday to say this, but… I’ve never loved anyone like you.  You’re my world, and I can’t imagine my life without you. The ring is in the other room, but… will you marry me?”

Jake’s response to Option C: “Honey, we can stay at your place tonight, and then start looking for a place all to ourselves immediately. Roger can go fuck himself, he can’t come between us. Let’s find a love nest just for us!  Will you marry me?”

Jake’s response to Option D: “Of course, babe, whatever makes you happy.  Speaking of making you happy, I want to make you happy for the rest of your life… will you marry me?”

Jake’s response to Option E: “Will you marry me?”  Duh, they all end like that. I bought the ring and everything. It’s stealing my thunder to propose on Wednesday morning instead of Friday night, but, you know, you have to roll with the punches.

Chloe’s secret Option F: “I can’t take this anymore.  It’s over.”

Jake’s response to Option F: “…….. ”

My stunned silence lasted long enough that I assumed that there would be another snooze alarm going off at some point to wake me up again.  There’s no possible way on Earth that I stayed silent as long as it felt like.  We’re talking about epochs here.  I’m pretty sure I stayed speechless long enough for an entire presidential term to pass, and for the incumbent to be re-elected and serve through a whole second term, handing the reigns over to his vice-president afterwards, who won in a landslide because the political party had done such a bang-up job keeping the economy afloat that there was zero question that four more years was the right thing to do for all Americans—

“Jake, did you hear me?”  Chloe was still talking.  She hadn’t said anything yet, beyond the initial bombshell that might as well have landed in my cereal bowl.  Nothing real, at least. The bombshell was enough to have me at a loss for words.  “I just can’t take the lying anymore, Jake.”

Wait. What?  That woke up my powers of speech.  “I never lied to you about anything, Chloe!  I mean, other than that one time where I told you I was going to visit my sister but I really went with the guys to a strip club, and I apologized profusely for that, and besides, that was, like, eight months ago!”

“No, Jake, not your lies…”  Chloe left the statement hanging there in the air, a pause as pregnant as I thought my practically-live-in girlfriend was in my hypothetical Option A just moments ago.

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