In an effort to slay the writer's block demon, here's one for the lies challenge. Exactly 100 words, too, which I almost never manage.

Temporary (Anna)

It’s only temporary. Utterly outside the bounds of ordinary life, ordinary time. When she must, she’ll put it behind her.

But for now she sleeps lightly, waiting for the soft rap at her window in the darkest hours of the night. For loving, hard and fierce and silent, so desperately silent as she bites back all the cries and screams that fill her to the bursting, because too many ears are too near. And after, as precious, lying skin-to-skin whispering together, trust and camaraderie like nothing she’s ever known before.

But it’s only temporary. What other choice does she have?

Liquid Plummer brain snake vibes to get of the blockage, Susan.

Remember this is a "Dummies" Style guide

The more you describe it, the more confident I am that we're not writing anything similar. My book is about what a fucking dummy *I* am, not so much assuming the reader needs a guide to do all the insane-o shit I've done, but a guide through the insane-o shit.

Victor, iffn you're around, I'd like to talk to you a bit about the interview you did with Tim re: the Firefly cancellation. I just rediscovered it, and there's a bit in there I could use a quote from you about. Though, it's 1am on your coast. Damn.

Liquid Plummer brain snake vibes to get of the blockage, Susan.

See, the stores should totally sell Liquid Plumber brain snakes for writers. Right next to the cans of whomp'em for athletes.

I'm with Allyson on the snaking out of the writerly stuff, but I'm still enchanted by imagining Liquid Plummer. Christopher? Amanda?

Lots of nice hot Plummers out there, with or without buttcracks.

And KMJ, best of luck with your book.

Christopher? Amanda?

I think they actually do spell it the hukd on foniks way. Cracks me up.

Now I'm envisioning both Amanda and Christopher with loopy, "braaaaaaaaains!" smiles on their faces, holding out bottles of this stuff...

Oh, in other news, especially for P-C and Bev - not going to do White Sands, because a) radiation is sort of overused and I don't want anyone to go in expecting science fiction (it isn't) and b) have something far better and far scarier, that I can actually tie into the Hollywood community in the fifties, which is my timeframe for the grandparents of the kids with nasty anemia.

Me for druuuuuuuuuuuuuuugs. Ah, Avonex nights...

Dudes, I want to do some LA signings and stuff. Who should I bug?

I never even noticed that Allyson said "Plummer" instead of "Plumber." Strange is the brain's ability to see what it thinks is there rather than what actually is.

I just spent an hour trying to explain the relationship between television shows, networks, advertisers, and viewers in less than 200 words. Kill me.

Kill you? Try, hire you for metric fuckloads of money, to write that up in blurb forms for the network executives.

You'll still want someone to kill you afterward, but you'll have a lot of T-bills and things.

I felt a need to try the lies drabble, but I went a different way with it.

“Come on, it will look good.”

When he first brings it up, you laugh, thinking he can’t be serious. A dozen florescent white statues of naked men, lining the driveway? Right.

He doesn’t let the idea drop though, and soon you find yourself agreeing, and even helping him plan. Painting the wrought iron fence to match the boys is your idea. So are the Santa hats.

For a while you can still hear the echo of your own laughter sometimes, as you wonder what the neighbors really think. It fades though, and by the time you catch the first group of tourists taking pictures you can’t imagine not loving Youngwood Court. It is yours, and it looks good.