Temporarily Discontinued

Hello All.

I'm quite unhappy that I must fall to this level of lameness in my quest to complete a fan fiction. Wowever, I must be truthful and tell you that The Misadventures of Jakobin Blane will have to take a seat on the backburner for now.

Currently, I'm having trouble with some classes, but as soon as they are taken care of, I will pick up again. Until then, here is a glimpse into the next chapter:

Over the next two weeks, it was bad luck as usual. Travis and Connor went snooping through my messenger bag and hid my sketchpad, which I went trumping through the entire Camp (including the Ares Cabin that reeked of beef jerky and arm pits) to find, but failed miserably. Eventually I fell to threatening Travis and Connor. Their pet rats proved to be very useful when held over the hungry mouth of Camp Half-Blood's guard dragon, I must say. Definitely helped me persuade Travis and Connor to surrender my beloved sketchpad.

Thankfully, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dork came stumbling back with my sketchbook to save their precious rats, though not without saying I was a cold-blooded killer and that they were going to tell the whole camp about my Sesame Street panties. But oh the well. I had destroyed an Art Room. Sesame Street underwear wasn't going to make that big of a splash.

Ellfo in the meanwhile, was constantly trying to force me to join him in his crazy snacking binges. Turns out he didn't have many friends either, so I was his designated best buddy. This meant that every time I turned around, it was the same old thing every time:

"Hey, um… Jakobin? You, uh… wanna try some gum?"

The first time I was stupid and didn't think to look at the wrapper before popping the gum into my mouth. And guess what? It was butter flavored. My mouth became a swamp of yellow as I spat the horrendous candy out of my mouth, shooting the yellow wad out like a freakin' war torpedo. The results were dire. The butter flavored gum had catapulted into Ellfo's scraggly mat of hair, and he hadn't even noticed. All I can say is:

I tried to tell 'im.

That was the extent of my social circle, unfortunately. Most of my cabin mates were particularly close and didn't have room for another friend; not that they were looking for one that had the reputation as the Schitzo Destroyer of Art Rooms and the Screaming Weenie Afraid of Darkness. Only my spud-minded counselors and butter-brained hippie friend wanted to hang around me, and that was very apparently due to their lack of a more astute material sitting in their skulls.

Activity wise, I was about as nimble as a pregnant dairy cow with three legs and four udders. Yeah. Sixteen blubbery teats flopping around in the wind isn't exactly my idea of "graceful" either. Moving on.

My skills at archery were, well, shot. And to further prove my superior lameness, Travis and Connor had reported my condition to Chiron which made it so that I couldn't participate in wrestling, sword training, or rock wall climbing at all. I had to sit out at all games of Capture the Flag as well, thus being forced to spend some real warm and fuzzy time with the Aphrodite cabin last week who had also been sitting out.

I had been drawing a comic strip at the Cabin Common's fountain when the Aphrodite cabin (or more appropriately, The Primadonna Posse) showed up, tee-heeing with each other about gods know what. Now, what I did to offend them, I can't recall; but somehow or someway they decided that I was greasy crumb unworthy to share their relative space. So naturally, they went on the offensive.

"Ever heard of a skirt?" one of the chicks sneered, her pageant-girl face pinching up in disgust. One of her sisters made a snide remark about my (apparently)unflattering clothes and boyish hair, though I never caught what she'd said. I had been trying desperately to ignore the girls and focus on my comic strip, but found it impossible.

They had begun demanding me to answer them when I finally looked up, raising my eyebrows—

"Can I help you?" I asked, hoping the acknowledgement would make the girls disappear.

But alas, the Primadonna Posse remained. The pageant girl smirked, putting a finger to her lip so as appear in thought.

"Of course you can help," she said, "by answering a question for me..."

Thanks for all of the love and support. I appreciate all of your comments and your PM's. But most of all, thank you all for just enjoying my work. That's all I can ask for. 3

Love,

Lorix