Writer’s block strikes the best
January 28, 2002
Brian Lecuyer
I am standing atop a high platform. Beneath me, throngs and throngs of people (including many beautiful maidens) are looking up at me in reverence. To them, I am more god than human. It’s clear they want me to speak. And for some reason, I feel an urgent necessity to reflect upon the journey ahead of me. “I will be going on a journey,” I say.
A silent shock echoes through the crowd. Finally, like a perfect chorus in unison, they all ask me, “What journey do you speak of?”
My reply to them is: “The journey that will take me from point ‘A’ to point ‘B.’ The journey that will be full of peril and despair. The journey that I may never come back from.”
This astounds the masses. I hear their shrieks of dismay and terror. Then they ask to hear specifics about my journey. They ask to know why I might never return to them. I oblige. “I am not sure if I have packed enough underpants.” I leave them to ponder my final words. Sobs break out among the throngs.
A single teardrop falls down my cheek as well. I will miss the masses as much as they will miss me. I look out from my platform at my servants, perhaps for the last time, then turn back to return to my palace. Once inside, my three most trusted advisers, Yoda, Ernest Hemingway and my imaginary friend, Bob, are waiting for me. They know nothing of what my announcement means. I want to explain it to them but cannot. “Leave me,” I command them, and they exit the palace room in silence.
Once they are gone, I go to the large, walk-in closet on the east side of the room. Inside, I stare at the thousands of Hanes underwear packages. They are all packs of three; they are all unopened. “God,” I speak softly, “I hope this enough.”
Just then there is a knock at the chamber door. I am startled and quickly leave my secret underwear closet. I go to answer the door, and I am surprised to discover it is Bob. I let him in. “Just one question,” Bob begins, “It there a point to this story?”
“No, I just couldn’t think of anything to write.” Then I am walking into the sunset.
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