M is for mud wrestling:



“Are you sure you want to fight about this?” I asked the ever present voice of reason in all situations; besides which I hated conflict and tended to run fast and furiously away from it.
“Yes, we will settle this by mud wrestling,” said the muse adamantly.
“Location?” I asked, extremely afraid of the answer.
“Well, dear there is this giant mud hole in your brain where all the bad novel ideas are sent.”
“No, please it will be a mess and who do you think is going to clean it all up?” I asked.
“Little Miss Raggedy Andy,” was the muse’s immediate reply.
“But you are at least a hundred times her size,” I complained trying to throw a spanner into the works.
“She should have thought of that before she threw out my boots.” There was nothing that I could say to that as the issue kept returning to the darn boots.
“Are you at all sorry, little chimney sweep?” the muse asked glaring at her.
“Well, no, not really,” she answered.
“Let’s go then,” said the muse disappearing into my head and dragging Raggedy Andy along by the arm. They reappeared in the mud hole where the muse threw Raggedy Andy into the hole and unceremoniously splashed in after her. They rolled around and grunted like wild animals, mud was splashing everywhere! The new novel ideas were cringing against the corners of Long Term Memory and Sir Laughalot was trying desperately to get out of the way. He had washed and polished his wheel only the day before. The lexicon Dragon was speechless and searched for something to say.
A fat girl, a bike and mud….


3 responses »

  1. Love the mud hole for bad novel ideas. Mine is a bit more like quicksand. Makes me wary to get near the idea of it. Hope you got the mess cleaned up. Will be interesting to see how Raggedy Andy fits into the growing community in your head.

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