First, he left this little gem of a comment last week.
Funny stuff. In addition to that, he has been running a Star Wars trivia contest that has, well, suffered a bit from an overabundance of Andrew Leon - as he threatens to win by such a large margin that I'm pretty sure Briane is looking for ways to give out points to anyone who isn't Andrew.
Case in point, he's created a Star Wars Fan Fic Fan Fic and is giving away bonus points for it. Sweet. I need those points because much to my consternation, 'Wookies' is not the answer to every single question. Dammit. I'm like the Hulk that way, he tries to resolve all his problems by smashing things, I answer every Star Wars related trivia question by shouting 'WOOKIE.' Go figure.
So, his rules dictate that I must write a story about one of my characters from a WIP of mine writing a fan fic about Star Wars in 250 words or less:
Todd leaned back in his barstool, almost to the point of tipping, and stirred his flirtini – his *apple* flirtini - with its skinny little straw. “Did you read it?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yoda does Yavin. That’s clever.”
He curtsied a bit. Weird how he did that. He looked like a medieval warlord transported through time and planted here in the bar. Big, beefy arms, nearly 300 pounds and way over six feet tall. He was a monster of man – but he hated stereotypical drinks. He’d never have a beer, an ale, a red wine, or anything that made him look like a brute. It was… disconcerting how he felt about his image.
“Did you take notes?” he asked.
“Leia, Padme, Chewie, Luke, R2, The Emperor… C’mon. This is just stupid. The Emperor, R2?”
“I think R2 could serve as a pleasure bot in a pinch.”
“Right. Sure.” I started to say something, continue the conversation, drag it along until he had said his peace. I’m sure he thought he was saying something insightful about the nature of love, of how the Force represents some metaphysical truth about how the universe operates, but I couldn’t do it.
I leaned forward and put my elbows on the pub table, Todd was still making the ice tinkle with his teeny little straw and frowning. He had this ruddy complexion that always made his cheeks glow red, like he was angry.
“Todd,” I said. “A guy in a fedora keeps looking this way.”
That ought to about cover it. Go check out the latest in his trivia contest, which is 100 questions in 100 days.