Oh, man! This is so perfect for those past few chapters...

Oh, man!  This is so perfect for those past few chapters I've written.  If only they were in a mason jar!  ;)

Welcome to Nanowrimo Day 24, Thanksgiving edition.  I am thankful for *you*.

Today we're visiting the farm supply store, a place near & dear to any Hoosier's heart.  And we go there on skates, eat blue licorice for free, flirt with a girl, and discover the illicit lair of the drug lord.  All in a day's work for Deb, huh?

Notable nanos:

Crossing the two lane county highway was no sweat.  Even though the speed limit was 60 on it, nothing was coming but an old tractor that couldn't have been going any faster than 15 miles per hour, anyway. 
A couple of large cages on the floor held bunnies, and I got down on my toe stops to look at them, too.  I'd always wanted a bunny. Maybe someday.  Would I ever have a home of my own, and time for a pet?  I had to find Gennifer.  I had to get my life back.
For a second, I saw a flicker of tusks and wings, and a tiny set of horns protruding through her flawless hair.  She gestured to her feet, and I saw a set of hooves on skates.  I blinked and tried to look again, but her feet had changed.  Now she wore work boots.  Dickies.  
I realized I could see the glamour if I chose—nothing but an old metal farm silo, a dilapidated barn, and a small abandoned farmhouse.

And today, we meet April.

Then April winked, and her nose wrinkled in such cuteness that I couldn't breathe.  She leaned in close, and whispered into my ear. "When you go back outside, you'll see a building across the street.  Don't go inside without me.  Wait outside—no matter who comes out to ask you in, and no matter what they say."  The skin on my neck tingled and I heard the echo of faint musical undertones in her voice.  

This is a hell of a chapter!  We also stumble into McJagger's lair…ooooooh…

I heard bells ringing, and laughter both high-pitched and guttural.  Was that someone crying, or the sound of kittens mewing?  I could smell urine, beer, and blood—all under a haze of incense.  A clacking sound, like carnival rides.  Sizzling.  People clapping, someone shouting—and the sound of wheels clattering on a wooden rink floor. 

And I hadn't even crossed the street yet.