NaNoWriMo 2006- Day Seven

Not a bad day, yesterday (3,000 words) although I didn’t meet my personal target of 4,000.

I thought Mondays were bad writing days because I usually didn’t write on the weekend but, no, Mondays are simply bad writing days. I’ll have to figure out why. Here’s another short excerpt from the very rough work-in-progress:

“So, what was that stuff I sent you?”

“Baby formula. Where’s the baby?”

“Not here.”

“Why did you send it to me, then?”

“You didn’t come in here just to tell me that what I sent you for analysis was simply baby formula.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but you’re not blasting me for wasting your time.”

The microwave beeped. “Okay, it’s really weird baby formula.” Claire opened the door, took down her cup, and dunked a teabag in the boiling water. “Where did it come from?”

I opened the fridge, where I’d put the bottle. It was gone. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“You want milk with that tea? Because if you do, I don’t have any.”

“Jack.”

I rubbed my hands over my face. My snooze to the sounds of music hadn’t done much for my exhaustion. “I’ve had a strange day.”

The doorbell pealed again. “That’ll be my pizza.”

Claire made a sound of disgust. Being a vegetarian and a health nut, she couldn’t repress her disapproval at what she considered a disgusting mix of dairy and meat. Myself, I pretty much considered it an essential diet staple. It had all the food groups —grain, cheese, protein, and veggies— and, if it came from Domino’s tasted like heaven.

I dumped the pie on the dining room table, came back to the kitchen for a plate and a paper towel, which I brought back to the table.

“You could at least use a knife and fork,” Claire said. She’d followed me to the dining room and sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Why? Then I’d have to clean them.”

“You have a dishwasher, for God’s sake.”

“I like full contact with my food.” I picked up a slice, dumped it on my plate. Then I sighed, went back to the kitchen for utensils and a placemat. Claire scowling at me was enough to give me indigestion, so it was easier to just play the civilized man. “Happy, now?”

“That formula was supposed to be in the fridge and it’s gone, isn’t it?”

Claire may be lots of things, such as a pain in the butt, but I couldn’t accuse her of being stupid. In fact, she was one of the most intelligent women I’d ever known, including Annie. “You got it. What was weird about it?”

“Well, first, if you gave that stuff to a human baby, he wouldn’t have a mouth, let alone a throat or a stomach inside a minute. The stuff is as caustic as sulfuric acid, although it’s not what it is. In fact, it’s a type of acid I’d never encountered before.”

“But I handled it when I poured out a bit for you. Some of it dropped on my hand and it didn’t do any damage.”

“It activates when in contact with another liquid, such as saliva.”

“Why did you say it was baby formula, then?”

“Because it also has casein, whey protein, milk and vegetable fat, sugar, and lactose. In short, infant formula ingredients.”

I took a bite of pizza, chewed to give me time to think. “I’m not a biochemist, but I’d think the acid would destroy these other ingredients.”

“Yes, it should. It doesn’t.”

“Hence the term weird attached to it.”

“Yes. Did a baby come with that formula?”

Did you like this? Share it:

Tuesday, November 7th, 2006, by M. D. Benoit and is filed under "Books and Reading, Commentary, English and Editing ". You can leave a response here, or send a Trackback from your own site.

Leave a comment...
Name and Mail are required