Sitting in front of the keyboard, looking for inspiration and the will to start working ... but it's not there. So what does he do? Prevaricate.

Not based on a true story as your narrator did finally get his paw out.


oOo

"Work Project - Urgent"

Oh gawd.

Three hundred and fifty-six words to go. My computer's black screen certainly has seen better things than this: sometimes mine, mostly that of others. The green text now fills a fifth of the screen. It looks impressive -- unless you're reading it. But then, this is just a filler. I'm warming my fingers to the task, as it were. I'll delete all this shortly and get on to my actual work. The stuff for which they pay me.

My mind just drifted off into thoughts of labrador puppies with rolls of toilet paper in their mouths. I wonder how much of a desiccant-ific toilet paper in the mouth might be. I must make some fresh coffee. My mouth feels quite dry. Lovely aroma, fresh coffee. One hundred and thirty-five words complete. Coffee in mug.

There's a fly on the window to my left. It seems black until you observe it more closely. It's an incredible metallic blue, almost like a very tiny winged metal machine. Intense. Electric. I could sit watching it for hours, but I really must delete this and start work. My coffee's gone cold.

The stupid fly landed in a cobweb of a large spider. Spiders are hydraulic. They push fluid in and out of their legs to move them. That's the tiny machine concept. I should write about that sometime. It might make a fascinating story with the right plot. Of course, real hydraulic machines rarely suck the liquified juices of still-living prey. If they did, building sites would be abandoned.

But they are! It's a recession. Maybe that's what happened?

The neighbour's dog just chased my cat across the yard and over the fence. I don't care. I don't like that cat anyway. He never comes when he's called and spends all night yowling on the shed with other Toms.

The evening's drawing in. The air is chilly. Damn. I've a full page of text. I can't just wipe it. Dammit, I still haven't started the piece for work either. That's irritating. More pressure. But I can't start it now. It's bedtime.

I swear I'll start fresh and early tomorrow morning.

Again.

oOo