Dear Mr. Scratchy:
I got tried of looking at the cursor blinking at me on a blank page, taunting and teasing me. Writer's block is about as much fun as a bundle of dead mackerel on a toy train set.
So, I thought I would write you a note.
God, I wish I knew if you even appreciated these?
Anyways...I imagine you checking in tonight, a flowered mug in hand, some sort of paper cup or travel mug filled with coffee. I imagine you exhausted from your day, still feeling the need to get a late workout squeezed in. I imagine you are wearing a brown baseball cap on backwards covered in paint, a grey quarter sleeved shirt, and dark pants- also brown- and work boots. I imagine you've got the little wire rimmed glasses on, and you're chewing on a plastic spoon from your coffee.
I imagine you singing the old disco song "Staying Alive", cause it was playing in the coffee shop when you got your coffee and now it's stuck in your head.
I imagine you reading this, rolling your eyes but nodding with a smile, one that crinkles up your eyes just enough and makes them sparkle. And now you are thinking of moose.
I imagine that you've actually thought it over more then once about the idea of shifting out of the shadows and letting me know who you truly are by midnight of the next ppv in two weeks. Which of course would mean your buddy Igor would be smug, because I imagine he's elbowed you more then once telling you to step into the light.
I imagine you are a decent cook. I imagine you painting and drawing every chance you get. I imagine you reading my fairy tale the second I write something, laughing at it, rolling your eyes at the characters, and thinking "I knew it! I so knew she'd do that to them!" I imagine you reading this scratching at your right side like a lunatic.
smile, smirk and snarl.