NOVEL NEXT 300: The Sexiest Hawaiian Shirt-Wearing Santa
HC
Yes, I approved of the last chapter, and I stand by my decision. Sam has already set the stage for you very, very well. You know what happened to her on Discord, and you know who she's becoming as a result of it.
Me, you know less well. I assure you I am NOT the sexiest Hawaiian-shirt wearing Santa you've never seen, and my wife is not called "Mrs. Claus," thank you very much.
I AM a well-respected writer who's royally pissed off about Discord and Purple Road, but perhaps for reasons quite different than you think.
Yes, I called George MacIntyre at the Art Guild and presented all the business reasons why it mattered that the fuckery was happening on Discord. But do you know why I really took the whole debacle so personally?
Because they messed with the mind of an innocent, vulnerable girl, and everything in my over-sized heart said, "No fucking way."
That child has more giftedness in her pinky fingernail than most humans will develop in their entire lives, and then some. But I don't just value Samantha Mooneyhan for her prophetic dreams and foretelling poetry, she's important because she is good and kind, and she deserves love and kindness in return.
And someone took it upon themselves to take advantage of her soft-hearted nature, to manipulate her, to scare her, to traumatize her, and to treat her like she doesn't matter. And it didn't end there.
They involved Cora who Paddy and I have adored since she was in school. Nurtured, supported, and watched her bloom and flower, stepping onto the stage and lighting up people's lives with music.
Music is something as special as both Cora and Sam, and for some fucktards to take that beautiful gift— the best part of humanity— and use it to harm two beautiful women who only deserve the best this world has to offer? Well, that is something I will not tolerate.
Oh yes, I've spoken with George again, and not just him. His boss. And her boss. And on up to the Minister of Art for Earth. Who is talking with the Milky Way Minister of Art. Who has a meeting scheduled next week with the Galactic Minister of Art. The representative for all 9 Galaxies. And you better believe that it isn't just the artists who are rattling cages.
This issue is being scoured by my own Guild since I am a well-known author on the galactic stage, but at its core, it isn't a matter of books and publishing is it?
Absolutely not. This is a technology catastrophe, and the Known Cosmos functions on two things: money and tech.
Someone's fucking with both on Discord and Purple Road, and I bet, on other platforms too. So, how do you think this is gonna go? Straightforward? Clear cut? Streamlined problem solving?
Hah. Never. Nothing that involves so much money and so much tech is gonna be straight forward. So that's why I approved of Sam ending Discordant the way she did.
She asked me to write the epilogue for you; said the readers would want to hear from me. And I understand that, but you don't know me well enough yet to understand the steel beneath my happy-go-lucky veneer.
No, this story isn't over. We've got more to tell you, and as I said, the stage is set. Cora has a show in Nashville. And Sam and Rhoda won't be going alone. Did you think Paddy and I would miss of our favorite lounge singer playing the Ryman? Never.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
We wrapped up Discordant in the best way we knew how. We told you the truth of what happened to us and how we put the pieces together. You got to know us and our story through our Discord chats.
Then you got to see us meet in real life, and all the found-family coziness that turned out to be. I even told you about the best crab cake sandwiches in Florida.
(Don't worry, all of you who're thinking Sam went to Miami and didn't eat a Cuban sandwich. She had several, and yes, she loved the pickles. The story on the plane about the honey mustard ham bun was foreshadowing, but we ran out of time, so you're getting the abbreviated description of Cubanos here.)
Back to the point of this epilogue. We've hit all the salient points of the plot: Sam and HC meet on Discord. Sam falls apart, but picks herself up with the help of Rhoda and HC and his wife. Then the four of them connect with the Trade Guilds, and the story keeps going.
Don't forget the love interest Cora, which I had a huge hand in, thank you very much. And no, I'm not afraid to be a man taking credit for what two women actually did. I helped them along, and I'm damned happy about it.
Epilogue nearly finished. How're you liking the HC point of view? Feeling like you've gotten to know this Cosmos-famous author? I sure as hell hope so because I want to get back to writing my own book, dammit.
Yes, I'm writing a book, and it's a prequel to Red Phoenix, the graphics I published when I was in my twenties. About forty years ago, the Known Cosmos Earth Press adapted my digital story and turned it into a best-selling graphic novel. That's how I hit the big time; Sibsil Creed sent me a contract, and I was over the moon to publish with that Press.
After that, I got busy doing other things. It was a huge gap for my writing career because I wanted to teach high school, marry Paddy, and raise our girls in peace. We had a remarkably quiet life, free of drama.
Until I heard from the Press again eighteen years ago. But it wasn't Sibsil Creed who called me. It was a man who said, "This is Slydar Joon."
No one at the Press had ever said a name other than "Sibsil Creed" until that moment, and I never understood exactly why Slydar Joon told me his real name.
You better believe I looked up "Slydar Joon," and I found his family. He'd had an accent I couldn't place when I'd spoken with him, and I figured out why when I saw where he was from.
His picture showed a dark-skinned man with dreadlocks. You'd probably think he was Jamaican, but no way. He wasn't just not from Jamaica. He was so far from Earth that I had an adventure trying to figure out the puzzle he'd left me.
Slydar Joon was from a tiny sphere called Uno in the system of Five Spheres in Andromeda Galaxy. Which I'd heard about in my teens by watching the videos produced by the Press and by reading their graphic novels. And yet, Slydar claimed to work for the Known Cosmos Earth Press, even though he lived in Andromeda.
Did he tell me on purpose that he was Slydar Joon to let me know a secret about Sibsil Creed and the Press? Or was he playing a game? I had no way of confirming; it was just another riddle in a lifetime of them.
And now, Bitsy Joon has contacted Sam, completely independent of me. Something is coming together, and what the shape of it will be is unclear to me.
It's time to finish this chapter up because Discordant needs to get out to the public. We can't wait another minute.
This is an ending, but it's also a beginning, so don't miss that.
You got to read this book and all of the poems in it. It might seem like they don't matter, but they do. Sam wrote a song that's hilarious as sin and worth every country music award ever invented. It's a story told in the best way: dumb rhymes and lines that barely make sense.
But if you're smart—and you're reading this book, so let's be honest, that makes you damn-near genius level IQ—then you'll look deeper into that poo song "A Fella Called Shoe" and see the foretelling I keep talking about.
What kind of battle cry does a woman like Samantha Mooneyhan need? A hilarious, ridiculous, unclassifiable shout of defiance that's the best closing statement a book could ask for:
"You'll eat poo
if you fuck with me!"
THE END OF BOOK 5
The story continues in Moons Dancing.
Click Next Chapter to follow Sam, Rhoda, HC, Paddy, and Cora as they journey to Nashville and beyond.
