this is half fiction, half true so i don't know where to post it. I only wrote this because i was trying to unblock my writers block and it sort of worked, but I think it needs an awful lot of fine tuning before I can take pride in it, hence why its up here. I just went with the flow of what I was thinking, so any critiques are welcome, as always.
Writing sucks. I'm sorry but that's just how i feel at this point. I've been sitting in my room, at my computer, for hours and I haven't typed a single word. That line just keeps flashing at the top of the page on Word Document while I roll around on the gas-lift chair. My legs are lifted so my feet, of which are wearing fuzzy purple slippers to block out the mid-January cold, are rested on top of my double bed which occupies most of the room. The most amazing thing in this scenario is that it is cold in January. The rain is bucketing down outside. Sure to most people reading this, it isn't such an extraordinary phenomena. But this is Australia, mid-drought and mid-summer. this sort of rain is barely seen anytime of year outside a storm, so it's quite interesting to listen to. I'm wasting my time racing two rain droplets down my window. I call one droplet Splashy, and the other Absorberatinochongflito. Pretty unique names anyway. Then, in desperation, i lift up my key board, rest it cosily in the gap between my legs and my stomach, and begin to type.
"Once upon a time there were two water droplets. One droplet was thin, small and very cold. His name was Splashy, for he liked to splash into people. The other was Splashy's best friend. He was fat, tall and not quite as cold as Splashy. His name was Absorberatinochongflito. One day, Splashy and Absorberatinochongflito decided to have a race down the window of a lovely young lady's bedroom window. Splashy said to Absorberatinochongflito,
"I bet I can beat you down to the bottom of the window."
"Hahaha." chuckled Absorberatinochongflito which made his watery double chin jiggle. "I highly down that! I am the worlds fastest water droplet. I competed in the 1994 Water Olympics and won gold medal. You cannot beat me."
Splashy rolled his eyes.
"You were the fastest droplet, until you discovered McDropalds. Ever since then you've stuffed your face with McCheese Waterburgers and Mc French Fried Puddles. There is no way you can outrun me with all that blubber you have there."
"Alright, Splashy." challenged Absorberatinochongflito. "I'll race you. But if I win, you will buy me lunch at McDropalds."
"And if I win," Splashy began. "You will give me your 1994 Water Olympic gold medal."
"Deal!" Agreed the fat water droplet, extending his liquid arm toward Splashy. The thin droplet also extended his arm and the who molecules shook hands in a form of contract.
"Deal." said Splashy, who strategically used Absorberatinochongflito's arm as a push-off and slid down the window. Absorberatinochongflito hurried down the window in an attempt to catch up, but failed miserably and ran out of breath halfway down. Splashy hit the bottom, and looked up at an exhausted Absorberatinochongflito crawling along in an attempt to so much as finish the race. But he passed out before he reached the finish line.
"Woohoo!" cheered a joyful Splashy. "I won!"
Moral of the story; don't be fat and try to race down a window."
I then hit the Backspace button and completely erased Splashy and Absorbe-whatshisname from the world forever. The last thing people need is a water droplet promoting healthy eating. If they won't listen to a scientist, they're not going to listen to an over-weight speck of water failing to get to the bottom of a window. No-sir-ie-bob. I stood up and stretched my arms up wide into the air. I always get so cramped when I type, especially in my little fingers, because I type with them sticking up, like rich people do when they drink. Walking over to my large mirror on another wall to the computer, i nearly trip over my fuzzy teddy bear Whiskey, who was sticking out from underneath a collection of jumpers and underwear and jeans I had so energetically and cautiously placed on the floor. I picked up my bear, bum first, and looked him in the eyes, which was rather challenging because they were buried underneath his facial fluff. His nose was a small brown button in the middle of his face, bigger than both his eyes put together though. And he wore a brown checkered bow half his size. His blonde furry limps were outstretched awaiting a cuddle. I held him close to my chest and snuggled him lovingly.
"Oh Whiskey," I sighed as i sat my sore bum down on my comfortable bed. "Why can't I write anything? I really want to but the best I can come up with is 'Absorberatinochongflito the obese water droplet'."
I lowered him onto my lap and stroked his fluffy torso. I liked his fuzz. It reminded me of my kitten before a snake tried to eat her. Oh I could still remember her death like it was yesterday. And with that, I got an idea. I placed Whiskey down on my curled up blanket (which was severely twisted from my little protest of having to get up this morning, or afternoon, which ever way you look at it), and sat back on my hard, cushionless computer chair. I leaned over the keyboard and began to type about my little kitten Bobby.
"About seven months ago I lost someone very close to me. On the one year anniversary of my grandfathers death, my little kitten, Bobby, was believably attacked by a snake. We aren't actually sure how she died. At first we assumed she was hit by a car, but later came the theory of a snake bite, which was more likely because more snakes travel along our street than cars. To some people, the death of a cat is just another loss, something you feel a little down about but it isn't very traumatic. But when Bobby died I burst into tears and felt all this horrid emotions. I felt like I'd never be cheerful again, that no one understood the way I felt, that I'd lost everything in this world that ever mattered to me. And that has a more simple explanation than how Bobby died. You see, my Pop and I were close. I was his eldest grandchild and because he tried for a girl and got 5 boys, when I came out I was sort of a miracle to him. He quit smoking, which was pretty major because he was a chain smoker one day, smoke free the next. But that was all because he felt he had something else to live for. He had a grandchild. I remember quite a lot about him; the way he woke up at 6 each morning and got me into that habit as well, the way he loved to go Yabbie-ing and he would torment me by asking me if i wanted one and holding a dead yabbie in my face. I hated sea food so it was just harmless fun. The way he smelt, the way he looked, the way his hands shook when they clutched the gearstick of his red Magnum. I remember the name of his car because it was just like the ice cream, which i love! The way he needed to use his oxygen mask every time he woke up, and the way he took afternoon naps. The clothes he wore, a green or blue woolen jumper, dark pants, dark shoes. The way he combed his hair over, and the dark silver shade his hair was. The stories he told of his past and the past of his hometown. His phobia of one of his grandchildren getting tetanus. His large wine bottle he used to store loose change in and as a doorstop. The way he always made us eat breakfast, how he'd watch us like a hawk until every piece of cereal or crumb of toast was consumed, then he'd produce a block of chocolate as a reward. Then there was that one time he needed my brother and my help to rid of a 1 kilogram Easter egg, and the three of us had it finished in half an hour. The way he'd always slip me a few extra pieces of chocolate when my brother went off to play the Nintendo. I could go on for days, but I guess I had better stop. Most of all, however, I remember his death. It broke my heart. I remember going shopping with my aunts and uncles, and getting a large chocolate muffin that tempted the aunts, who were trying to diet. I remember walking back and talking about my cousin Jayme-Lee, the third of the three musketeers formed by the three oldest cousins who were all female. I remember how much fun we were having as a small group escaping from the saddest thing we'd known. I remember walking up to his room once more, before leaving to go to my cousin Jordy's house, the second musketeer. I remember kissing my Pop on the head while he lay there looking like a vegetable. I remember the car ride home, where my aunt and uncle were talking about bringing my two youngest cousins up to see Pop the next day, and i remember thinking there wasn't any point because he won't be there tomorrow. And I remember the phone call from Dad saying he had died, and I remember CSI was on the TV and i was watching it while Dad spoke, because I was trying to escape the reality. And I remember walking back to the room we were camped at and seeing a canopy of female cousins clinging to my uncle Gary, crying and pleading with him that it couldn't be true. They all looked at me when I walked in, and that was conformation. And I remember holding my tears in, trying to be strong for the others, and pouring it all out into my pillow later at night when everyone was asleep.
"So you can see that it was a pretty horrid moment for me. After-wards I felt like such a no-one. I felt hollow and empty and miserable. Then I got Bobby. She became my world, and I loved her so much. She was my little girl. I confided everything in her, like she was a journal. And although she had no idea what was going on, she helped me. So I'm sure you can understand why it was so unbearable to lose her. My brother and I had just returned from holidays and we walked into my Mum's house. She greeted us, but I left the reunion early because I had to pee. I walked down the corridor and saw Bobby sleeping in the middle of it.
"Hey Bob." I said to her as i stepped over her and went straight to the toilet. I didn't;t realise anything was wrong until I finished and walked back up the hallway to my room. I stepped over Bobby again and I noticed she hadn't moved. I did a sort of a double take and I realised she wasn't moving. Normally she was my little grey fluffy shadow, so i was a little sad she didn't follow me into the toilet, i mean, i left the door open for her and everything. But she hadn't moved an inch. I stood watching her and she gave a desperate, pathetic squeak i assumed was a meow.
"Mum, what happened to Bobby?!" I said, panic flooding my voice.
"What?" Asked Mum, popping her head out of the lounge room door. She stood up, she was obviously on the computer because the chair's right next to the door, and came walking over to me, rather casually. She looked down and saw Bobby.
"Oh my god, you found her." Was all she said.
I felt rage build up inside me. Didn't she realise something was wrong? Bobby wasn't just sleeping, something was seriously wrong."
Writing that, I got so upset I nearly cried. So I pressed the backspace button once more and watched all the memories delete themselves off of the page. I picked up Whiskey again and looked in his eyes.
"Whiskey! Why is everything so hard? I can't write anything!" I told him, tears falling down my cheeks from the memories of Bobby and Pop. He lay still in my palm, looking up at me with his limbs open.
"I can't write!" I groaned. "I have no purpose, no talent. Life sucks!"
I threw Whiskey across at the heap of clothes he came from. He hit the pile hard and I felt a little bit of guilt, but then I remembered he was just a teddy bear. I looked away and leaned over to my keyboard. I typed the words "I quit" and pressed the power off button. The computer made protesting moans, but soon the life whirled out of it with a dying sigh. I stood up, taking a sip of my Pepsi at the same time, and left the room.
"I can't write," I thought as I turned off the light and shut the door. "I don't know why I bothered trying."
Don't mind me. 
OMG-it's-a-long-paragraph-I'm-not-going-to-read-it-eek!-syndrome...
