- You’re going to do a meta-post, aren’t you?
- No, I’m not.
…
- You’re so full of shit.

The Writer’s Block leaned over to see over Jay’s shoulder. Sure enough, there it was in big, bold letters:

You’re going to do a m…”

- Aw, maaan! Tell me you’re not doing that!
- Um… I’m not doing that.

The keyboard kept on rattling:

…ot doing that.”

- Do you even respect yourself anymore? Hell, you even changed your fucking name!
- It’s better than nothing dude. And don’t sit around being sullen. I have work to do and I want you gone as soon as possible.
- You ungrateful son of a bitch.
- That’s it. Give me rage. Give me pain.
- I’ll give you something to mull over, asshole.

With that, the Writer’s block gave Jay the finger and sat on the bed, his forehead wrinkled with outrage. For more than an hour, neither of them said a word.

- We’ve had some good times, haven’t we?
- No, we haven’t.
- C’mon! Don’t be like that! I’m reaching out here!
- Dude, every single time you’re around, all you do is sit in a corner and brood. You come up with stupid, meaningless metaphors and I end up pulling my hair in desperation.
- You’ve got to admit that that “Can of Butterflies” thing the other day was pretty clever.
- Worms. It’s worms. And there’s no blood left in that cliche. Slashdot pretty much killed it in the late nineties.
- Jeeeez-ess. You just don’t recognize talent when you see it. What the hell’s so special about worms anyway? You ever try to catch a few of those critters? Here’s some news for you: They slither! Catching the goddamned things is easier than hitting the long side of a cold with a catcher mitt!
- Eh…
…
- Um… What?
- For fuck’s sake! You know what I mean!
- Leave. Please. For the benefit of both of us. Just do it.
- You’ve not seen the last of me! I’ll be back! With a spoon!
- Um. Yeah. ‘ktnxbye.

— sergio at 04:12 AM     TrackBack (0)

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— sergio at 02:12 AM     TrackBack (0)