Thanks for the bungee

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“My work is done for the day. At last you get it. I was afraid that I would have to drag out the old blackboard; it’s stored somewhere in one of my floral bikinis and I can’t seem to remember exactly where at the moment. I think the long term memory part of my brain hasn’t settled yet, it is having a rather difficult time adjusting to all the movement of memories inside there.  They seem to think that it’s the opportune time to relocate. Forgive me, dear; my thoughts seem rather scrambled at the moment. As I was saying you get it and that seems important, though I can’t remember why.”

“Hmmm.” I murmured, trying to sort through the experience and the emotions that seemed tied up therein.

“So long, dear and thanks for all the fish. Remember to take a towel along to your next write in for Nanowrimo and don’t panic dear. Panic makes your flatulence worse,” the Muse said and sauntered off dragging slivers of flesh along behind her. They were screaming at her to stand still, they were still trying to get on board. She twiddled her fingers at me and disappeared. The bits that were left behind shrivelled up in the sun and became hard, brown beetles which scurried into the undergrowth screeching: “Biiiitcchhhh” as they went.

Fish? Nobody had said anything about fish and what’s up with the towel?  Her brain must be more scrambled than even I thought. Halfway home and with the cars whizzing past me on the freeway, I finally got it. She was quoting Douglas Adams. She knew I was a Douglas Adam’s slut and loved everything he had ever written. Perhaps she was trying to comfort me or perhaps she was saying that I should apply myself and learn from the great authors whose souls were floating around in the Story Universe. If I wanted to be there one day I had to work for it, nothing ever came easy.

I went bungee jumping and survived, I think, otherwise I am bringing you this story from an alternate universe; one in which I haven’t learned how to live and my writing is sadly lacking therein.

Thank you for spending the past week on the inside of my skull. If you need anti-depressants pick them up in aisle three, anti-psychotics can be found in aisle 99⅓ , drugs for paranoia in aisle 007 and yes somebody will be following you, don’t freak out, cigarettes and alcohol are lumped together in the sickly yellow aisle or if you just want to get the hell out of here press the exit button and good luck, hope you make it.

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