Yay! Thanks to everyone who has participated so far in the Making Lemons into Jokes campaign for me to write "If You Were a Butt, My Butt." (Full story here.)
For the $500 stretch goal, Liz Argall will be creating a brand new Things Without Arms and Without Legs (and presumably butts).
Just a reminder about the upcoming stretch goals -- At $600, Brooke Bolander, Adam-Troy Castro, John Chu, Ken Liu, Ann Leckie, Juliette Wade, Alyssa Wong, and I, will write a round robin story about dinosaurs.
At $700, Mary Robinette Kowal will record the audio book.
At $800, Barry Deutsch will create original cover art.
I have a few more things in the works, too!
Since we reached $500 before Monday, I have promised to release the beginning of "Butts." And here it is:
If you were a butt, my butt, then you would be a butt. This is a tautology, but it’s still true.
Since you are a butt, my butt—being a butt—I regret to inform you that the set of duties you perform are not always tidy or delicate. To begin, you are frequently sat upon, which most people object to—if you doubt me, try it on the subway sometime. Secondly, you are on a not-infrequent basis required to be an excretory passage.
Being an excretory passage may be erotic for some butts—but you are not that kind of butt, my butt, because feces are really gross.
Frankly, I’m surprised you need an orientation. You have been my butt for thirty-four years. You should have a handle on it by now.
A digression aimed at my esteemed readers:
By far the most difficult part of this enterprise is that the framework requires metafictional authorial insertion.
(Yes, I said insertion. Let’s face it. Everything from the title forward is going to be riddled with double entendres.)
Luckily, I live a strange and magical life, as I have documented before. For instance, there is my familial relationship with the phoenix as documented in Dr. Thackery T. Lambshead's Cabinet of Curiosities. Also, I have written of my journeys with the guidance counselor, a time traveling madman who pilots a milk crate.
My shield for these stories is the fact that readers will assume my accounts are fictional. After all, I am a short story writer. Why not believe I am making things up? Probably, you should. Yes.
Everything from this point on is fake. Believe at your own peril.