
Simply a-musing
I’m a writer and I don’t get no respect. Not even from my muse.
The other day my muse showed up after leaving me high and dry for months.
He said, “Guess what? To make it up to you I’ll grant you three wishes.”
I said, “Okay, first, I want this novel manuscript to be done. Second, I want it to be a best seller and make lots of money. Third, I want it to be made into a movie and make even more money and fame. Go it?”
My muse nodded.
I waited. Three days. Three weeks. Three months. Three years. It did not happen.
When I finally saw my muse again, I asked why my wishes hadn’t come true.
“But they will,” my muse said, “but first you have to die.”