Oh, But Not Even For The Muse Of A Stabbing Monkey

Okay, you’re pissing me off. It’s been ten days and still tabula rasa. I’ve sacrificed a chicken in your name and you still give me nothing. Not even the chicken blood I’ve smacked on the canvas has inspired me. The tom cat I acquired from Ms. Pendelton’s apartment refuses to dance so I must go to the most desperate measure to summon you, my muse. After the tom cat comes the monkey with the knife. I hope you’re happy, I need a tetanus shot now. Screw you my muse, I’m going back to the warehouse where I was loved and respected. Here has too many tom cats and stabbing primates.

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Gil
    Jun 13, 2011 @ 09:21:58

    The muse does not respond to sulking or fits of pique. Grander sacrifice is required nothing except the frosting from the mixing bowl will do…


  2. Carson Margedant
    Jun 13, 2011 @ 12:27:47

    This worked out much better than the original draft where I just screamed at the laptop for an hour. The word processor refused to process that. I think it was a moral imperative, but it may have been a lack of voice recognition software.


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