Or maybe putting in Dan's copy edits on HERO.  Or researching self-publishing for TSV, or putting together a synopsis and such for HERO.  Or anything, really, except writing new story.  So I guess that's why I'm publishing a Tuesday Teaser (this time actually on Tuesday), even though it's raw and new and worse, the BEGINNING, which means it will not, under any circumstances stay.  At all.  And yet, I kind of like it.  And since I wasn't supposed to write it anyway, and since I'm feeling feisty:  Here are the 300 words I wrote tonight, so they would stop bugging me.  (Except it didn't work.  If I weren't so tired I'd be writing more right now.)

Sorry, jeffreyjingles .  If the toilets are gross when you come tomorrow, it's all Sam & Mitch's fault. 

This one might actually keep its name, but for better or for worse, right now it's SPECIAL DELIVERY.  It has about 40k in bad draft sans antagonist which I am shelving, and as soon as I did that, this had to come out.

Sam was staring past Aunt Sharon’s head and out the window as she lectured him, which was why he saw the delivery man as he pulled up to the back of the pharmacy.  At first he just noticed him in the same way that he noticed the truck he was driving, and the tree across the alley, and the clouds above the tree, and everything else that he could see beyond the glass.  Well, everything within a four inch radius of Aunt Sharon’s head.  He had learned, over the years, that if he went any further than four, he was liable to get jolted by a sharp, “Look at me while I’m talking to you!”  And at first, the man was just another Something New Going By, and Sam didn’t think anything more of him—until the man got out of the cab.

Sam shuddered.  Mostly inwardly, he hoped, and from Aunt Sharon’s failure to comment on it and perceive it as “more laziness and ingratitude,” either it was, or she wasn’t looking at him at that particular second.  But Jesusgod, the delivery man was worth more than just a shudder.  Ripped was such a gross word, and he hated it, but this guy was.  Sam thought (and hoped) his thin grey t-shirt was going to peel away from him in shreds as he pushed up the rolling door in the back, but it only stretched to its maximum, revealing muscles that said to Sam, “This man you are looking at could lift you in the air and bench press you with no problem.  No problem at all.”

Sam swallowed and sat back in his chair, letting the air go out of his lungs in a silent sigh.

There was a sharp rap against the desk, and he jumped.

“What are you looking at?”