G: I merely come here seeking political asylum!
S: Then try the House of Commons, that's the finest political asylum in the world!

~The Goon Show *dies laughing*

Because that's the colour of the winner's bar on National Novel Writing Month.

51,504 words! VICTORY IS MINE!!

I can now attempt to resume my social life, absolute power driven job seeking... right?

I cried when I wrote the ending. Mainly because my favourite character had to die. Shivering and cold, coughing with pneumonia and bound up in obsessive madness. My poor poet. You'll be glad to know your friends learnt their lesson, even if it caused another one to fall off his balcony and fall a long, long way.

Victory is bittersweet. RIP you two. Twas not entirely in vain, I promise.