to celebrate national novel writing month (or the unfortunately nicknamed "NaNoWriMo") this year i will spare myself the white-hair-inducing effects of writing 50,000 words in the month of November by writing a story a day.

these stories will be of any length and veer into any territory i wish. the idea is for me to write one a day for every day of november. these will be first drafts with minimal editing.

if you are into any of it. please comment below! perhaps you can help me figure out if there's ANYthing in these stories worth adapting or polishing into something awesome.

story 7. psy vs william hung (by jenny yang. wednesday, november 6th, 2013)

the view was amazing. one hundred eighty degrees of the downtown los angeles skyline at midnight. the bright lights shimmered through the wide, seamless windows of the penthouse suite.

unfortunately, psy couldn’t enjoy his view anymore. he was now blindfolded, gagged and bound to one of of the eames wire dining chairs he coveted just earlier that day when he check into the hotel.

“i am so proud of you, young psy,” said william hung while he tousled psy’s hair-gelled head. “i’ve watched you rise and i am so happy for you. remember, fame is hard.”

psy tried to yell through the three layers of duct tape. just a muffle.

dear william hung. he was the semi-down-syndrome looking Asian guy who shot to infamy for a fully-committed rendition of ricky martin’s pop hit, “she bangs.”

“she bangs! she bangs! oh baby way she moves! she moves!” he yelled off key through his large front teeth. there he was, looking like the stereotypical engineering student from uc berkeley, and fulfilling every middle american’s image of what a smart, baby-faced Asian guy would be like on television’s biggest show.

william paces away from psy toward the view of downtown monologuing, “but it’s worth it, psy, isn’t it?  i got to where i am because it is my attitude and charisma, i tell people constantly, media, everywhere i go, just never give up on your dream.”  william flips back around toward where psy is seated hugging himself so swiftly the fake pleather of his black motorcyle jackat squeaks.

“i am so happy you have followed in my footsteps,” said william, while still holding himself.

then with a quick pivot, as if addressing his imaginary audience outside of the vast window, he threw his arms wide open and declared, “without william hung, how can there be a psy?”

william smiled at the adoring fans in his audience who were surely on their imaginary feet at this statement.

“i have seen the mountaintop and it is perfection. but there are bad people who want to take you down. i have suffered at the hands of their devil hearts.” william hung his head deep in disappointment with these evil-doers.

“i am very busy, young psy. i am now a proud Technical Crime Analyst for the LA County Sherriff’s Department. but i cannot just let them feed you to wolves.” william walks back toward psy to grab him firmly by the shoulders.

“i will help you.

i will train you.

you will get through this fame.

from your voice,” william gripped psy’s throat like a vice,

“to your gut.” william socked psy in the stomach.

“i will remake you into the ultimate pop star warrior.”

psy coughed through his nose and started to panic. he wriggled around but couldn’t lose the chair underneath him. his moans continued until he fell to his side and onto the thick plush rug.

“the less you struggle the better our training will go. do not fight me, psy.  this is for your own good.” william lifts psy upright with a bit of struggle.

“first, we need to feed you more. don’t listen to them. you are beautiful as a full-figured man. i will make you delicious dumplings when we get to my apartment. Do you know Hacienda Heights?”

psy shakes his head with a whimper.

“it will be the perfect retreat.  let’s get us out of here.”

the end.