November comes in with a shriek and a slam of a door and Chuck, like some valiant idiot, has the decency to make sure his girlfriend hasn't spontaneously combusted or otherwise become a victim of some suffering at the great expense of losing the momentum in Supernatural: Now With 200% More Horrible (pending title). What he gets for said decency is Becky throwing something at his head, apologizing for it, and then explaining so quickly that she might not have said any words at all about how she can't talk to him until she gets her padding up and if she breaks five thousand words on the first day, she'll have trumped stupid deangurl35's first day word count from last year and this is necessary, you know, for life.

Chuck... Decides this is one of those things he's probably not going to ask about, although it hits him on his way back downstairs.

Right. That thing.

He silently bids his sex life goodbye for the next month and plops down in front of his computer, glaring at the word processor as if it's done him a great injustice- all this work and he can't even get paid for it. It's not even that satisfying- at least Becky actually gets devoted fans worshiping those... Weird, vaguely creepy stories about Dean and Sam and... Yeah.

Unless...

He takes note of the calendar on the wall, takes note of the computer, and then wonders if it's cheating if a Prophet competes in NaNoWriMo.