Next chapter gonna be a while.  Next Monday?  We'll see.  Final projects and end-of-year assessments have been dragging me down.  Also thinking of resigning from the fire department so I can spend the summer seeing my family and friends before I go off to the fleet.  Much of my time is not spent writing.

But here we go.  This one is gonna be a doozy.  Echo and Daring chapter.  Proll'y ten thousand plus words.  Maybe even more! Chock full of action, character building, western bar brawls, lore, dream sequences, drama, plot twists, and even romance.  I know you guys have been waiting for things to finally come to a head between our favorite explorers... well, it's finally happening.  

The cat diamond dog human is out of the bag now.

Need some extra time for the next chapter.

It's been one hell of a long weekend.  Will write once cognitive.

...I'd apologize, but partying was totally worth it.

Wadies.  Mentlegen.

Tomorrow night, I partake in that most monumental of public education traditions, dramatized senselessly by thousands of terrible books, movies, and cheap pornos.  The night of the year where the senior graduating class undergoes a startling transformation, from immature, self-conscious quasi-adults to well-dressed immature, self conscious quasi-adults, intent on smothering themselves with layers of fine clothing, usually with the intent to rip it off the other later on with fumbling, sweaty fingers.  (As Lewis Black would yell, "Pimps and whores.  Pimps!  And!  Whores!")  The night where it is certain some daft philistine is going to wrap their motor vehicle around a telephone pole through a haze of intoxicated debauchery.  The night where illicit substances are copiously consumed with wild abandon, usually smuggled from the confines of the family liquor cabinet, or from the local merchant of psychedelic supplements.  I speak to you of the occasion we all know as Senior Prom.

Oh yes.  It's time to put on the tuxedo with a bow tie because bow ties are cool.  Oh yes.  I do have a date, she looks like a brunette Sansa Stark.  Oh yes.  I am drinking buddies with the su chef in charge of our meal, so I can arrange for something special to be brought out for us.  Oh yes.  I did learn to drive stick, and managed to snag a rust-red cooper for wheels (it has racing stripes, game over.)  Oh yes, I've shaved the neckbeard, washed off the smoke stains, put on ten pounds of muscle, and trimmed my hair from "mountain man" to "dapper-tastic."  Oh yes.  I've been sharpening my charm and wit upon the conversational whetstone of college-going female peers.  

Oh, no.  I haven't the faintest idea how to dance.

This is gonna be fun.

Sorry about this, but your regular Monday update is going to be coming a little late this week.  I simply haven't had the time to write all of the chapter yet, and after sitting down two hours ago and pumping out a good chunk of story, I realized that with only six minutes left,  I wasn't going to be able to make my deadline.  The question now is, do I write a huge, polished chapter and release it next Monday, and write a decent amount of backlog to boot (omfg backlog ftw), or do I cram this into my literary catapult, fire it willy-nilly, and hope it sticks the landing (lets hear it for pulling it out our asses!).  

Because really, I make this up as I go along.  I don't know what's going to happen to the characters until I write it.  More fun that way.  Gotta enjoy what you do, ya know?  Keeps me on my toes, makes me have to play off of what I write and adapt as I go.  I'm a reader too, in a way.  

I'll think about it.

Sorry again, folks.  Having a life gets in the way of the important things sometimes... like pony fanfiction.  Who knew?

A good pal of mine from around here, Cheese Bread Eddy, just got back from basic training only a while ago.  He's helped me out through a lot of military stuff, like MEPS and my DEP pool.  Pretty cool dude, yeah?  Like me, he went Navy, but his balls were so big they said "whoa, this motherfucker right here should go submarines because only the hardcore go submarine."

He doesn't have many followers, and I think it's a damn shame nobody's given him a hearty "WELCOME THE FUCK HOME, CHEESEBREAD!" or a "CHEESY YOU BASTARD I'M SO PROUD OF YOU CONGRATULATIONS!"  Well.  Aside from me.

*cough*

You know what to do.

*cough cough*

ladies...

Yes, that's right.  Soon, and very soon, you're going to get a triple-dose of literary lovemaking from the loony litany that is the Legend.

Io, you wonderful son of a bitch.

Three all-new chapters, straight from the backlog.  One per week from now on.  No other work will be done until this epic has been concluded.

GET HYPE.

"Hey, Mister Rust!  Look!  Look at this!  You've got 1,500 followers!"

Well, shit!  I mean... shit!  That's a lot of people.  That's... fuck, I've got more people following me than money in my bank account.  Between you and me, though, I already know which holds more value.  Oh, gosh, I don't know who thank...  except you guys.  

I SHALL NOW MAKE SWEET COITUS TO YOU AS A REWARD FOR YOUR BENEVOLENCE.

Don't take it seriously.  Just roll with it, dudes and dudets.

"With what, Mister Rust?"

Well...

Oh, you know.  The usual.

I know, I know.  It's been too long since I've updated anything.  I just don't have the time at the moment, not with the sports season back up.  Not with my weekends taken up with my bouncing job, not with the early mornings at stage tech, and not with any remaining time involved riding fire engines, saving lives, and generally living the childhood dream.

That doesn't mean progress isn't being made.  Once spring is here (when I say that, I mean I can look out my fucking window and not have to squint from snow glare) the Legend will be going all out until it's done, hopefully before the one-year anniversary.  Then I finish Dead or Alive and Dark Side, and ride out the rest of the summer on a streak of one-shots.  

I don't know what happens after that.