Disclaimer; I don't own Spy Kids.
"A Creative Mind"
Fegan sat silently atop his hand-structured chair and allowed the cold appendages to caress his motionless physique.
An array of thoughts swam in his mind as he idley sunk his fingers into the beige clay he held in the palm of his left hand. He stared down at the mesh before him.
What used to be a refined, smooth sculpture of his face, was now a crude, lumpy blob before him. He had absentmindedly duplicated how he himself felt on the inside; a useless glob.
He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He was supposed to be happy.
He was a genius.
He invented great things! Like...the Thumb-Thumbs. Although, they were clumsy and uncoordinated...but that was besides the point. He'd made great things before.
Hadn't he?
What about his fooglies? I mean, sure they were just mutated OSS agents, but being able to take people as dull and boring as them and turn them into fascinating works of art had to count for something.
Right?
Or maybe he was just a useless glob. A man with too much borrowed government money that he'd wasted on meaningless projects, and broken dreams.
He had no idea how he'd get out of this slump. His creative juices had stopped flowing hours ago. It was like one of his castle's underground tunnels that were blocked off and deprived of the flowing water that rushed in.
Although, deep inside himself he knew, no matter how useless, no matter how disheartened, and empty he felt.
Nothing could possibly stop a creative mind.