The Writer at his Computer

Once upon a time, there was a writer in a dark room sitting at his computer. The computer said, “What are you DOOOing?” Its voice cracked a little.

Frustrated, the writer snapped at the computer. “I’m trying to write!” he said.

The computer whinnied like a horse. “Writing:” it said, “you’re doing it wrong.”

The writer got up, went to the bathroom, and shaved all his hair off of his face and half of his head. “There! You happy now?” cried the writer. The writer slumped down and watched Youtube videos.

“You’re still not writing,” the computer giggled like a cartoon squirrel.

“I’m too tired. I have a stomach ache. No, a headache. It turns out I don’t like writing after all.”

The computer put on his top hat and monocle and challenged the writer to a duel. The writer accepted.

They drew pistols at sundown, but the writer was piss-poor at drawing and his pistol looked like a picture of a penis.

“You’re terrible!” cried the computer.

“I know.”

“This pistol looks like a dong!”

“I know.”

“What are you even good at.”

“I can write… sometimes.”

The computer shuffled up to the writer and slapped him in the face. The writer decided to quit being a bitch. But first, he logged on to Deviantart, uploaded his picture and titled it “Pistols at Dong.” He laughed for 20 minutes then wrote a story about a superhero giraffe that eats people’s souls to fuel his lust for freedom and Democracy.

The End.


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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XVII

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