Tidbits of inspiration – surely not a private annoyance…
It was once asked:
Who wants a puddle of piss and no reason?
And it was once answered:
And I once answered this like that – if you’re going to relieve yourself on my floor then have the decency to hang around so I can rub your nose in it, and then clean it up. I’m not touching it – my years of working in nightclubs have put pay to any willingness in me when given a choice.
I figure these cheeky little tidbits of inspiration – tiny elf-like figures, quite portly but swift – think they’re sneaking in when my back is turned, dropping their kecks and pissing, and sneaking back out muffling their giggles.
Yes – well, my back is always turned. I’m always otherwise engaged when suddenly INSPIRED! And I know when I think I’m inspired because inspiration has no sense of stealth. I sense its tidbits behind me and I turn, and I find a puddle and a vague shadow melting in the distance.
I’ll admit, I sit here tired this evening after mopping up another litre of inspiration wasted for want a joke – for too long has mug here been forced to the floor wearing marigolds – and no longer will I tolerate this insult.
Since inspiration thrives on keeping writers on their toes, and since its tidbits seem hellbent on ruining my floor, I’m left with no choice but to catch these urinating buggers and teach them a lesson!
I’ve taken it personally and declared war.
Your move, inspiration –