I was trying to figure out where to go with a story I was writing. You know how things go: Life changes. Stories need to shift gear. Alliances fade away ( or violently explode in an eruption of miscommunication and buried hatred). So you’re left with some aftermath and some writing that needs a little kick in the ass. Enter Chris, the Muse.
Thanks to Senior Muse, I can channel all of the lovely rage, self-deprecation and irritation behind this oddly, destructive body into something angry, devoted, irritated and punishable by self-loathing and relief. If you think I’m playing the pity card here, you’re a fucking idiot. I like having some weird, explosivitiy in my life. Anger is good for you sometimes.
Just like having 3 different voices in your head, one of which is batshit crazy and likes to pick fights with everything that moves. She may also be missing an eye, but I haven’t had the opportunity to look at her face long enough before taking a baseball bat to mine.
Anyway! Thanks Chris! I know where to take this story, and it’s been surprisingly therapeutic. I mean I’m only like… 2 pages in, but it’s kinda nice to have those two pages and know where the story’s going. So I owe you, sir. I owe you quite a bit. As do some of the characters who would have otherwise been sent to the land of hellacious, story-time, purgatory for the rest of their underdeveloped lives.
They thank you too, as well, Chris (<– Bad grammar is just hilarious)
(I don’t own this either – Volbeat does. This is not mine. This is theirs.)
P.S: Still working on editing the original babies. Don’t worry. They aren’t going to collect dust. I know a Lil Sis, Big Bro, Mumsy and fellow Heathen that would kick my ass if I let that happen. Plus the Doc, Randall and the Creeper in the trees. It’s coming. Hopefully by Summer 2018. Shhhh.