Whirlwind

There is no picture this time and you’ll see why soon! 😀

*Disclaimer: Please remember, this fictional story is still a work in progress and has not been edited. Please forgive any mistakes or mistypes…hopefully they’re minor.

 

She finally got her chair to settle down so that she could sit and begin to write. It had the tendency to roll around the room, while the desk was stubborn and stationary. She didn’t care where they were located as long as they moved together. Any awkward movements by one always threw her off. Now that the chair was playing along, she didn’t appreciated that the mouse and keyboard had wandered to the other side of the room and were giggling at her. The whispering and staring was just aggravating. It wasn’t funny anymore! She had a deadline and nothing was going to prevent her from making it. And since the computer refused to be woken from its nap, she had to try a different route.

Snatching up a pad of paper, she went in search of her pen.

“Be careful there, would ya’? Whiplash, honey. Whiplash! Unhand me woman before I call my lawyer!”

She didn’t know if she could roll her eyes hard enough to convey her annoyance. All he did was lay around, since the computer did most of the work. He could take being manhandled for a while.

Tripping over carpet tassels into the kitchen, she felt her spirits rise as she laid eyes on her pen. But taking in the state of said pen, dismay quickly replaced happiness.

“Write drunk, they said. I can hardly stand, much less dance across miles of paper.” The hiccupping was cute, but couldn’t distract her from the growing panic.

“We can always change places. You can lay down and I can stomp all over you. You heavy footed clod.”

Paper and pen were usually always ready to go. They worked so well together she never had problems using them. But now she’d have to see if she could find that old typewriter. It was always wandering off and shredding the ink ribbon. Said it made its insides taste funny. Between having to wrestle a new ribbon in and forcing it to hold onto paper while she typed, it was always a nightmare.

A new thought crossed her mind. Maybe today was just not the day for any of this. Maybe she should sit down and read that new book she got. Wondering if any other writers had the same struggles she did, she took off down the hall after her cell phone. She’d call her editor and just get the deadline pushed back. If the phone let her.

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