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Another Muse Story

Well, guess what. Yeah, my muse has “inspired” me to write another story. This time, she didn’t say what I should write about or how long it should be. She didn’t even give me a sentence to start with.

“Write,” she whispered in my ear.

“Hm?”

“Write.”

“Write what?”

“Just write.”

“OK, thanks a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, muse, I won’t. You want me to write? Give me something to write about.”

“Fine, write about sweat.”

“Sweat?”

“Yeah, sweat.”

“I’m not going to write about sweat.”

“You need to.”

“No, I really don’t. Sweat is gross.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t get it.”

“You will. Write about sweat and it will all make sense.”

“Muse?”

“Hm?”

“When was the last time you went on vacation?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A few years ago.”

“Yeah, I think it’s time for you to take one of those long vacations.”

“Well, I do feel pretty overworked.”

“I’m sure.”

“But what will you do while I’m away?”

“Oh, I think I’ll manage.”

“You’re sure?”

“Oh, I’m quite sure.”

So, in any case, now that my muse is away, I can write about whatever I want. Freedom at last… hm. Give me a minute.

Once upon a time there was a very attractive gentleman. He was everything a woman could desire: tall, fit and amazing in bed. There was only one problem: he was very sweaty.

No, no, no. Not sweaty. He was, uhhhh fuck. That stupid muse is in my head! I don’t want to write about sweat! I will NOT write about sweat! You hear me, muse?

Anyhow, the only problem was, he had a bad sense of humour. I mean, it was the worst. There were five-year-olds who told better jokes than this guy. Of course, at first, the women were all hot for him, then something like this would happen:

“Hi there,” he would say.

“Oh, hi,” the woman would reply.

“How many elephants does it take to change a light bulb?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I asked you how may elephants it takes to change a light bulb.”

“Why do you ask?”

“I have a light bulb that went out and I need it to be fixed.”

“Oh. Seems like something you could do yourself.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Never mind.”

“It’s OK. Can we have sex now?”

“Yeah, OK.”

So, then they would both end up having sex. Amazing sex. I mean, really sweaty… awww crap! DAMN YOU, MUSE! DAMN YOU!

I give up. The end.

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