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Writer’s Block #2

14 Aug

August 14

I have writer’s block.

What? The pair of reruns this week didn’t give you a clue? Sheesh, take a brain cell out of petty cash, ok?

Anyway, I have writer’s block, and if you doubted it before that lousy brain cell zinger should be all the proof you need. So I went back to the list of odd writing prompts I found online and picked one at random.

Are we alone? (Tufts, 2009)

And for that Tufts charges about a bazillion dollars admission. Anyway, here we go.

Are We Alone?

Are we alone? How should I know? I have no idea who you are or where you are or what you’re doing or even if you are doing it without pants. If you have a secret to tell me and you don’t want anyone around to know it, just back off. I’m not interested.

I hate that question. “Are we alone?” It conjures up images of creepy uncles I won’t talk to any more, strange old men with lotion on their palms, restraining orders, and other memories I work hard to suppress every single day of my life, thank you very much. “Are we alone?” I sure as hell hope we are not.

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