Writing Horror Or How Many Times Do I Have To Verify My Address So The Prize Patrol Finds Me

 

I want to write something but what I know not

I say that often, more often than I ought

I think some fresh coffee would hit the spot

 

 

It all trailed off. She sat there. “Good God, that’s a helluva start” (right place for the comma – check that) Melissa thought, as she sat at the laptop – “no, I just said sat, overkill” – enjoying the sunrise, reveling in the peace with her grandson asleep… around the corner from the planet of the apes. “Man, what’s with me today… I can feel it. Now, how do I get that down on paper, technically no paper? (But with the question mark instead of a period it comes across as I don’t know for sure – eh) I want to keep typing. Typing what? ! (an exclamation point in the middle of nowhere but the spell check doesn’t care – no green or red indicators – hmm) My fingers want to keep moving. Maybe I should wrap them around a coffee pot. Maybe I should cut them off so I stop with the idiotic rhyming. Idle hands! Have I been possessed? Only parts of me get possessed; my feet are possessed, they always want new shoes. If I don’t buy them… if I buy them – better – my thinking is / has been possessed. With the idiocy of my writting, that’s writing, I’m guessing yes. The spell check keeps correcting so I do my best. It’s stopping me from being myself, which is a good thing? Machinery is taking over! Maximum overdrive… Seriously?”

 

Melissa looked up from the table. A small figure appeared in the entrance. “That’s not scary. Say ‘a figure appeared’… I should stop.”

 

She went into the kitchen. Well, she went into the kitchen after she and her grandson did their morning hugs.

 

 

“Is that good grammar…” Never mind.

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