LITERATURE MARCHES ON

I took a break from digging out of the snow and wrapping my bottled water and freedom fries in plastic sheeting duct-taped to the AC vents in our safe room to add another installment to this novel-in-progress I'm, um, "writing" with two friends.

Instead of the proverbial infinite numbers of monkeys, there's just three of us, so it's safe to say we ain't coming up with Shakespeare.

It started out innocently enough, what with the idea of having a little fun with the conventions of Important Fiction. Sure enough, the first few installments had sort of a slightly edgy Garrison Keilor feel to them, and even a few elegant, and possibly even gramatically correct, sentences. But it didn't take long for the sensibility to morph into Carl Hiassen, and then, tragically, Quentin Tarrantino, probably with a little Hunter S. Thompson on a peyote binge thrown in for good measure. When they make the movie, through the magic of computer-generated effects, Christopher Walken will play every role.

But I digress. Assuming your book club hasn't already started following along, read for yourself. (Because I'm too lazy to fix it, the most recent installments are at the top of the page, meaning you'll have to scroll to the bottom to begin.) Not that it'll make more sense that way.