IMPORTANT NOTE FROM PAD: At this point, the total manuscript for “Potato Moon” is at 40,000 words. In order to allow contributors to have the time to read everything that’s gone before and avoid duplication, and continue the storyline in some sort of coherent manner (stop laughing) I am going to expand the turnaround time from 24 to 36 hours. Of course, if you can get it in sooner, all the better.
Bela gasped in horror.
“I’ve turned into Ernest Borgnine! And not a young Ernest Borgnine!”
“Oh, sorry,” Woeisme offered as she took the mirror from Bela’s hands, flipped it over and returned it to Bela with the reflective side up. “I keep a picture of Ernest Borgnine taped to the back of the mirror.”
Fig looked at Woeisme as though she were some drunk guy he’d caught peeing on his garage door at 3 a.m., and asked, “Why do you keep a picture of Ernest Borgnine with you?”
“Because he’s a hottie,” Woeisme answered as though the answer were self-evident.
“You think Ernest Borgnine is a ‘hottie?’” Fig inquired disbelievingly.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, will you people focus?” Jakob said with exasperation. “No wonder it’s taken us so long to get this far! Stop worrying about Ernest Borgnine, for cryin’ out loud! Look at what’s happened to Bela!”
Bela stared deeply into the mirror, almost wishing she had indeed transformed into Ernest Borgnine. Instead, she saw that her brow had transformed into something frighteningly animalistic, her eyes now glowed red, and her canines had lengthened into fangs.
“I’ve turned into that other kind of vampire,” Bela lamented, “Not the pretty, sparkly kind! The nasty, ugly kind!”
“How could this have happened?” Woeisme loudly wondered aloud.
Everyone looked as though Woeisme had asked an appallingly stupid question, which she indeed had. Bela turned to Woeisme and spoke as though she were addressing a toddler, “You realize this is probably the least wacky thing that’s happened all day.”
Woeisme nodded sheepishly, hoping she didn’t suddenly turn into one. Then one of the Vole guards wrenched Bela by the shoulder and snarled, “Have you forgotten that you’re still our prisoners?”
Bela responded by casually snapping his neck, and then sinking her sharp canine teeth into his throat. Everyone else looked on in horror.
Bela shrugged innocently when it was over. “Well? This is what I do.”
The she was overcome with a wave of nausea. She clutched her stomach and cried, “Oh, GROSS! I’m only supposed to drink human blood, aren’t I?”
Jakob, suddenly feeling like Freddie from Scooby Doo, declared, “I have a plan. Listen closely, everyone…”
• 
Wait, how’d we go from Part 62 to Chapter 36?
The Ernest Borgnine bit was hilarious.
You had me at “and not a young Ernest Borgnine!” Funny stuff, my man.
So, you decided to play it safe with the standard Ernest Borgnine’s reference you usually see in this genre 🙂 but it was very funny.
By the time this is done, it’s actually going to be a rather long novel.
But really, is there much of a difference, other than the level of the whispers when he’s on Fox News, between young Ernest Borgnine and old Ernest Borgnine?
Huh. Ernest Borgnine. Borg. Nine. I think I see where you were going, my friend!
Sean, what scares the crap out of me is that I had the exact same thought about the name “Borgnine.” I’m not sure who should feel more disturbed about that, me or you. 😉
I’d say something about you KNOWING I don’t think, but I’m trying not to go there.
And yes, you and Jeannie should both be disturbed.
Ernest Borgnine and the “you realize this is the least wackiest thing to happen all day” were really funny stuff.
40,000 words. Good lord (choke). I really need to go back and read it all before my turn comes up.