A Hurricane of Words

I was trying to write, so I leaned over my laptop but I could not focus because there was a dragon outside the window. I closed the blinds, but I still knew he was there, roaring, breathing fire, killing policemen and a few local heroes who had the courage to stand up to the beast. I knew I could not continue like that, so I decided to take action.

I called my agent:

“I have a serious problem with this place.”

“Jackson, baby,” he said, “How is my favorite author doing?”

“I need to move, I can’t write.”

“Easy, easy. What exactly is the problem?”

“There is a dragon outside.”

“So what, somebody will slay it.”

“It’s not about the dragon, it’s about the whole thing. There is always something out there that is getting in my way. The black hole, the giant face in the sky, unicorns, cowboys from hell, Satan breaking out of his eternal prison and angels battling him for, like, a week. Will this thing ever end?”

“It’s a stimulating environment that-”

“Shut up, Frankie. Just get me out of here. I want to live in Prime Material Plane not in this loonyville.”

“Hey,” he sounded offended, “The Plane of Creativity is not some loonyville. There are people out there who would kill to be where you are.”

“Well, then let me trade places with one of them. Get me a place in Manhattan or someplace boring like that, or start looking for a new job.”

I hung up. The place was dead silent (except the dragon roars outside) and I took a few deep breaths to calm down. I decided I would drink a glass of wine and then call Frankie again, to apologize.

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