Telling Stories

“Ugh.” Writer Lady groans letting her head fall to the table.

Dobby looks up from his bathing spot on the floor nearby, tongue sticking out. The room remains quiet.  The ginger tabby resumes his bath.

Writer Lady watches her sweet kitty as he slurps his way to a clean tail without a second look in her direction.  Sitting back up, she lets her head drop to the table again this time groaning louder.  “Ugh!” She repeats, sighing after, she turns her gaze to meet Dobby's eye.

“Is something wrong Mom?”  He asks.

“Oh...nothing.”  She says.

Dobby returns to his bath.

Seeing this, Writer Lady groans-sighs-groans again.

“You're groaning.”  Dobby says.

“Am I?”  Writer Lady asks.

“Yeah.  So what's wrong?”

“It's just that, I don't know what to say.”

“Blocked again?”  He asks.

Writer Lady nods, her head rubbing against the table top.   “I'm afraid it's over.  I have no more interesting thoughts, new ideas, no more stories.”

“Come on.  You always pull something together.  Just relax.”

“Not this time kitty.”

“Brush me.”  Dobby says rubbing against her ankle.  “You always feel better when you brush me.”

“Actually kitty, you always feel better when I brush you.”

“Same thing.”

Writer Lady looks at the blank screen in front of her.   The cursor blinking at her defiantly. “Why not.  It's not like I'm doing anything here.”

“Feel better?”   She asks when the brushing session is over.

“Yeah Mom.   Lots better.  I hope you feel better too.” Dobby says rubbing himself against her side.

“Thank you kitty.  That's so sweet.”  She says reaching out to pet Dobby.

“Mom.  Brushing is over.   Don't touch me.”

“Sorry kitty.”  Settling back down in the Big Writing Chair Writer Lady reaches back to scratch an itch just below her bra strap.   When her hand returns to its resting place at the keyboard it's covered with fur.  She looks down.  “Dobby I'm covered with cat hair.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.”

“I'm not supposed to be.”

“It can't be that bad.”   He says.

“My boob looks like it belongs to an orangutan.”

“Hairy boobs are sexy?”  Dobby offers.

“No kitty.  Not on me they aren't.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes I'm sure.” Writer Lady says glaring at the ginger tabby.

“Should't you be writing or something?”  He asks.

“Yeah. If I knew what to write about.”  Writer Lady says.

“Why not write about...”  Dobby begins.

“See it's not as easy as it looks is it?”

“I'm thinking.”  Dobby says.  “I know, write about your hairy boob.”

“Are you telling me I should write about the hair that is all over the outside of my blouse?”

“Well, um...yeah.”

“No one wants to read about cat hair being stuck someone's clothes.”

“Maybe not a whole post but you know a sonnet.”

Writer Lady shakes her head.

“A regular poem.”

She shakes her head again.

“Haiku?”

“No kitty.”

“How about me? You could write about me.”

“I already do that.”   Writer Lady says.

“You didn't stop writing about me?”  Dobby asks.

“No kitty.”

“Where is the story where I save the world?”

“I haven't written that one yet?”

“The one where I'm a superhero?”

Writer Lady shakes her head.

“The one where I get the girl?”

There is no response.

“Mom? I didn't hear you.  Why is it I haven't gotten the girl yet?”

“I don't know kitty.”  Writer Lady sighs and puts her head back down on the table letting out a sigh.

“Pssst. Pssst, Dobby.”  Tinkletoes calls from the doorway to High Command.

Dobby looks up.

“Halo Face Off. Ready?”   Tinkletoes asks.

“Just a second.”  Dobby says.

Tinkletoes looks at Writer Lady slumped over at the table.  “What's up with her?” He asks.  “Girl stuff?”   Tinkletoes mouths the final words.  You know, just in case.

Dobby shakes his head.

“Dobby kitty go play with Tinkletoes.  Don't worry, Mommy will be fine.”

“Are you sure Mom?”

“Of course.”  She says sniffling a little.

Tinkletoes rolls his eyes.

“He'll be right there.”  She says without looking up.

“What's going on?   I thought it was Halo night?”  Carp says to Tinkletoes stopping in the doorway.

Tinkletoes gestures to Writer Lady with his head.  “Being a girl about...I don't know what and totally milking it,” he whispers.

“Did you learn anything last summer?”   Carp asks.

“I think the important question is do I remember anything from last summer?”

“Do you?”

“I used what I had to when I had to then I buried that crap deep.  Like a man.”

“So what you're telling me is?”

“I just came over for Halo.  You need to take care of this girlie shit.”

Carp glares at Tinkletoes.   “Just because she's upset doesn't means it's hormones.”

“Mom's blocked.”

“There are prunes in the cabinet.”  Tinkletoes points out.

“Not that kind of blocked.”  Carp says.  “You're right this is no place for you.  Go play the game.”

“See Dobby.  Make yourself look useless and you never have to do anything you don't want to.   That is central to being a guy.”  Tinkletoes says leaving the room.

Dobby looks at Carp.

“It's central to being a guy who's alone.”  Carp says.  “Go ahead Dobby and keep him out of the way.”

Carp enters High Command, kneeling down next to Writer Lady.  “Hi.”  He says gently.  “It looks like you're having a bad day.  Want to talk about it?”

Looking at Carp Writer Lady nods.  “The words aren't coming...(sniffles)...no more stories...(sniffling) I suck at this...(sniffling). Dobby says I have hairy boobs and I should write about them.”  The crying starts.

“So you're having trouble coming up with an idea this time?”  Carp asks.

Writer Lady nods.

And they called me “high maintenance”, oy vey.  Carp mutters.

“Do you know what I used to do for a living before I became an assassin?”  Carp asks handing her a tissue.

Writer Lady shakes her head.

“I used to write romance novels.   Have you ever heard of Jenny Love?”

“Yeah.”  She says. "Every single book was a best seller.  For years.”

“Jenny Love was a star too.  Do you remember the gossip?”

She nods half heartedly.

“I was pretty high strung then.  The world owed me for bringing those books to it.   I expected it to pay up too.  The demands I made on people.  I drove many a publishing intern to quit, one running home in tears.   I think she ran all the way back to Kansas.   Wait a minute, she wasn't an intern, she was an editor.  An executive editor.  I wrote every one of those novels out long hand.  When I got carpal tunnel my agent, publisher and all of the people I worked with so closely dumped me as fast as they could.  I couldn't get a job writing copy for laxative ads even if I wanted to.”

“That wasn't very nice.”  Writer Lady says.

“Jenny Love was impossible.  A hellion.   It was the best thing that ever happened to me.   The worst too.  Isn't it funny how change happens?  It comes on like a tsunami sometimes.  It is rarely ever all bad or all good.  They get mixed in together.   When the smoke clears things are just different.”

Writer Lady nods.   “I don't want to be rude but what has this got to with my current problem?”

“Nothing directly.  But if you get too worked up about it, you won't tell the story you want to tell and you won't enjoy the journey either.  Readers can't identify with your work if you're sitting in a chair at your computer crying with your head on a table.”

“You're not going to tell me to open a vein and bleed all over the page too are you?”   She asks.

“I am an assassin.  I know where all the runniest ones are.”

“No thanks.  But thanks for the talk Carp.”

“You're welcome.”  Carp says standing up.

“One more question.”  Writer Lady says.  “What made you decide to become an assassin?”

“I had already killed Jenny Love it seemed like a natural progression.”