Writing on the edge of sanity

My muse is a stout one-eyed man with a bad case of gingivitis that trembles in my closet while mumbling things about carrots, and when I have the notion to write it scurries out on its hands and ankles and makes gurgling sounds. When it reaches me it tries to make words out of these noises, most of the time coating my hand with a fine layer of saliva, and after finally uttering one word he hisses and scampers back, most of the time growling at my dogs when he passes them.

What about you guys?