The fat muse

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What she thought she was up to heaven only knows. I caught my muse exercising her heart out and when I asked her what the hell she thought she was doing, she answered:”Getting fighting fit!” What that means is anybody’s guess but it scares me.

I can see why she needs the exercise but really- fighting fit? Is she trying to upstage me on purpose, seeing as I am having the worst week ever inspiration wise? The other possibility is that she is going to float like a butterfly (not that I can see that happening anytime soon) or sting like a bee. Hmmm, somehow sting like a bee seems much more appropriate. I haven’t shared this before, but boy does she have a mouth on her. The lady swears like a sailor and can string them together in a sentence which would leave you gasping for air. She has sworn at me multiple times before; true maybe I needed it at the time, but still, I am only a frustrated writer.

She has even been banned from the gym for swearing at the treadmill which gave up the ghost under her 600 pound body. It squealed for mercy before it flat lined. The words that came out of her mouth made the paint blister and the water in the coolers boil. She made a spectacle of herself and I had to rush in before my membership was cancelled as a result.

I have been the victim of her foaming at the mouth episodes quite a lot recently as I haven’t applied ample butt to chair lately. I haven’t bled enough words to her liking, nor for Nanowrimo’s for that matter. I am quite afraid that she will literally squash the very life out of me soon.

Think of me….your schizophrenic author.

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