So, yeah, I'm just addicted to writing. So, I WILL review other's peoples work, but this, idea just popped into my head, and I had to put it on here as soon as possible. Hope you all enjoy.
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"Just write the damn story, Jack!"
Every minute, of every hour of every day. He yells at me.
"I'm sorry, Buddy, but I'm trying as hard as I can. Have you ever tried writing before? It's not easy work."
"I don't care how not easy it is. Just finish the damn story."
Why does Buddy live here? Worst decision I ever made.
Yes. It was my decision to have Buddy live here.
I saw Buddy, lying on the side of the street. Cold,lonely, sad. I'm one of those caring type people, you know. But, little did I know, this guy turns out to be a mooching bastard.
So, I feed this guy, and I take care of him. And he's grateful and such. Then he finds out I'm a writer.
He gets this preconceived idea that I have to be writing all the time.
ALL the FREAKING TIME!!!
So I sit at my type writer, and he sits behind me saying, "Write the story Jack."
"Write the story Jack."
"Write the story Jack."
"Write the story."
"Write the story."
"Write the story."
"Write the story."
"WRITE."
"WRITE."
"WRITE."
"WRITE."
Every day. It gets on my nerves. So one day.
I finally snap.
"Write."
"Write."
"Write."
"Write."
"Wri.."
"BUDDY, SHUT THE FUCK UP!."
Now Buddy is all frightened, and he whimpers into a corner, like some pathetic animal.
"Aww, don't worry, don't be sad."
Great. Now I feel bad.
I go over to my pantry, and pull out his favorite snack.
"You want some, Buddy?"
He nods affirmatively.
"That's right, who's a good boy?"
He eats the snack. He is happy. Shit-balls.
"So, you gonna finish the story Jack?"
"Sure Buddy. I'll finish the story."
I go back to my computer. He sits behind me. The process resumes.
"Write."
"Write."
"Write."
"Write."
'Man's Best Friend' my ass.
