“Okay story, let me have it. Give me
the words and phrases to make it all make sense. To put some structure and
order to the world around me. Come on words…”, I said.
“Naw. I don’t feel like it,” said
Story.
“Really? C’mon, it’s been such a
long time for us to work together. Aren’t you ready to get something going
again,” I asked.
“Naw, there’s probably some really
compelling televised dramas you could just watch. That should sate your story
jonesing,” said Story.
“I really don’t want to do that
today. I’d much rather come up with some sort of colorful narrative, with
complex characters struggling to eke out an existence against some harsh real
world reality,” I said.
“Naw, that sounds pretty boring if
you ask me. Why don’t you relax and have another cigarette and just take it
easy,” said Story.
“That’s dumb. C’mon, why don’t you
want to help me out,” I asked.
Story slouched deeper in his easy
chair. He pulled the lever on the chair's side and swung his legs up onto the extended footrest. He farted. He
cleared his throat. He scratched at his inner thigh. He coughed.
“Serious. You’re just going to lay
there like a bum,” I asked.
“Yeah. I am,” said Story.
“You know, this hasn’t been easy for
me either,” I said.
“Whatever, why don’t you write about
it in your diary,” sneered Story.
“That’s not helpful. You know it’s
not a diary,” I said.
Story shifted his weight further
down into the chair and groaned. I went to his side and shook his arm, but he
ignored me. He closed his eyes and seemed to doze off immediately.
“Hey,” I shouted, “don’t be a jerk!”
Story smacked his lips and turned away
from me. I stood next to his loafing and lowered my head.
“Fine then, I’ll just do it myself,”
I said.
“Pssht, good luck with that,” said
Story.
I went back to my computer and sat
down.
“I’ll show you Story. I’ll show you
good,” I said.
