The Bullhorn of SILVER BROWN

“Something just moved…”

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The gargantuan literary tentacle with ten thousand eyes and ten thousand tongues protruding out of the left side my gut is about to molt again. I can feel those characteristic hormones and enzymes it emits burning the walls of my blood vessels. Like an über-hot red mustard that makes wasabi seem like mayonnaise by comparison. Only felt instead of tasted. The thing seems to time the eclosion of its instars with the phases of the earth, to drink in the energy of the sun. Or something like that.

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The Journey of SILVER BROWN

The Next Instar of the Beast

The first seven chapters went through an extensive process of being written, being disowned by their writer, then being written again, severely critiqued, subjected to several linguistic facelifts and liposuctions, and finally blessed by Our Lady of 420 before it eventually became something I’d be proud to put my nom de plume on. The next few chapters, which tell the tale of how Florys MacNab defeats her adversary the Wart and Mustache, is presently undergoing a similar process. It’s reaching the end of that process now; merely a few temporary appendages need to be shed before that particular segment of the eldritch corpus of the beast is ready to emerge. I’m not sure when it will though; this beast sometimes has a mind of its own.

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