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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Huh?


Snypiuer

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Still have writers block, so I forced myself to sit and write ANYTHING! This is what I got. Not good, or very original, but hoping it will trip something in my tiny little think center.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Sometimes,

I wonder why:

Birds can sing,

But dogs can't fly.

 

And why does day follow night?

 

Then along comes,

The recurring theme

In which I'm more alive,

Within my dreams.

 

And still,

Day follows night.

 

So I sit

And contemplate,

Deep dark thoughts

And dreadful fate.

 

While I count the days

That follow night.

 

And wonder:

 

If my dog could fly,

Would he be content

To stay the friend

He is to me?

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Thanks. I'm glad the subtle nuances of the juxtaposed. . . .who am I kidding? Still blocked and PRETENDING to know what I'm talking about isn't helping (By the way, Snypiuer has always been amazed at how many here are knowledgeable about writing structure and style. I have no idea about either. Basically, Snypiuer like write - same problem with music, was a band geek and played trombone for 7 years without ever learning how to actually read music. I knew what the little pictures on the music sheet was supposed to sound like but if told to play or write a certain note, I couldn't to save my life. Anyways.)

 

Whenever I try to access what little gray matter I have left, it seems some CEO of Snypiuer LLC. has decided that outsourcing the call center would save the company enough money so that he can afford an island somewhere. So, with NO regard to the fact that NO ONE in the fourth world nation he chose speaks English, this is what I go through:

 

Operator: (In broken English - obviously read from a phonetically written script) Hi. Thank you wel come call Snie-pee-your may halp you?

 

Me: Huh?!

 

Operator: May halp you?

 

Me: What the?! Ahh, I've been waiting several weeks for my muse to get back to me and was wondering if you can give me an update as to when I may expect her return?

 

Operator: Moose? You need halp write?

 

Me: Whaaa...? Yes. My muse! Been waiting for weeks. Where is she?

 

Operator: You moose, write gud now?

 

Me: (Believing, for some unknown reason, that talking LOUDER and sloowweerrr, along with elaborate hand gestures would help) I...AM...CALLINGGG...TO...FIND...OOUT... WHENNN...MY...MUUSE...WILL...RETURNNN!!!

 

Operator: (Also speaking LOUDER and sloowweerrr and, no doubt, also using elaborate hand gestures) YOUU...MOOOSSSE...WRRIITE...GUUD...NOW?!

 

Me: (Nothing but the sound of my head loudly and repeatedly banging against desk) THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! (Followed by) ARRGGGHHHH!!!!!

 

Operator: Thank you call, gud bye!

 

Meanwhile, on some tropical island beach, a CEO lounges on virgin white sands and takes in the majestic ocean views as petite (yet voluptuous) native beauties slowly fan him with palm leaves and feed him grapes and strawberries while he drinks a frosty tropical drink and softly chuckles to himself as he mutters, "What an idiot!"

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