I think anyone who is a writer, either amateurishly or professionally,should get some form of tax break or refund to purchase hooch, or bottled inspiration. I would be ok with a certain amount of work that needs to be produced first. Honestly, I could use a little bit of grandpa's cough syrup. And I still have the better part of nine months to get through before things can change…I hope I can keep things together until then.

*Sigh* You know, I found out that someone's mom has put me in the “special” category. I'm having to learn a set of arbitrary house rules that have been built upon for the past fifty years plus, and this is the third or fourth such set I've had to learn. Its a little frustrating. Anyway, as bad as that is, I wish I could say that that's the first time I've been labeled slow by a mom. In my defense, the first time was after taking a friend home, after a graduation party, when I hadn't slept in over a day, literally running into the 36+ hour zone. So I wasn't at my quickest.

Alright, enough of my complaining. Here's another piece. This one inspired by though flinging games. You know, you throw the stick mans and see how far, or what ever. Its not any particular one, but that's what prompted it. And I do thing the other guy looks like a fireman with his hat on backwards.

I think it's bedtime…

Night

~A~