The Pointless Story
It all started out with a mysterious letter.
I sighed and put my pencil down. "This is no good," I said to myself. "I've gotten one scary letter in my whole life."
It was a birthday invitation. Not exactly scary, my Muse reminded me.
"So? The kid's a creep," I told him. But, nevertheless, I kept writing.
It was a dark and stormy night.
Whoa! How original is that? Muse asked sardonically.
"Not very. But all good horror stories start like that."
If my Muse had a head, he would've shaken it. Not true. Your own personal horror story starts by looking in the mirror.
"Oh, shut up," I muttered and continued writing.
Jamie was having trouble getting to sleep. She was reading when she heard a knock at the door. But it was the wind and nothing more.
Probably someone delivering that horrifying birthday invitation, Muse sneered.
I shook my head. "Nope, worse than that." I picked up my pencil again.
Jamie nodded off for a few minutes, but was reawakened by rapping at the window.
Are the children all in bed for now it's 8 o' clock!
"Huh?" I said, blinking.
Forgotten your nursery rhymes already? Tsk, tsk. What a shame.
"Whatever.
Sitting that was a raven named Lenore. "Lost Lenore," Jamie said in awe.
Hold on there! Isn't that like, already copyrighted?
"Um, yeah, I guess so, but nobody will notice. Besides, Poe can't sue me! He's dead!"
Muse muttered, Honestly . . .
The raven looked up. "Actually, my name is Bobo."
Jamie screamed. Her parents had always warned her about talking birds, but she had never taken heed of their warnings. Who would guess that she would actually meet one!
"See! I bet you a million bucks that hasn't been published yet!" I exclaimed.
Only because no publisher would want that sort of junk, Muse muttered.
The raven kept talking despite Jamie's shrieks. "I have for you . . . a mysterious letter," he cackled, then flew off when Twilight Zone music started playing.
Too many late-night television marathons, Lindsey? Muse asked me.
"I'm not sure if Twilight Zone is even on anymore," I told him. "Honestly, the sci-fi channel is so boring nowadays."
Jamie opened the letter slowly. The envelope was pink. Pink, Satan's favorite color. Jamie involuntarily shuddered.
The horror! Muse said mockingly.
I shivered. "This scary stuff is getting too rich for my blood. Let's turn it into . . . I know! A romance!"
Muse groaned.
The smell of perfume came wafting up from the envelope. Jamie inhaled deeply. "Mmm, the smell of my secret admirer." Then she started coughing. "Good grief!" she managed to gasp. "What is he – an elephant?"
Oh, please turn it into a comedy. You know you're no good at romance, Muse pleaded.
I sighed. "Fine."
There was another knock at the door. Jamie prayed it wasn't that awful crow again. But alas, it was the bird. And he was psychic.
Or psycho, Muse mumbled.
"Agreed."
"Hey! I'm a raven, lady! Not some crummy crow!" he said indignantly.
"Okay, okay," Jamie said, rolling her eyes. But under her breath she muttered, "If he gets any more annoying, I'll call him dinner."
That's not funny, Muse told me bluntly.
I rolled my eyes. "Fine. What should I try now?"
Hmmm . . . how about cheesy soap opera?
Jamie blinked back tears. "Oh darling Bobo!" she cried. "I always know you would come back! Even after you ran away with my best friend!
Bobo tried to embrace her, but his feathers got in the way. "I know . . . ever since I left I've been pining for you."
"Oh, Bobo," Jamie sighed happily before falling into a coma.
Okay, this story is just plain sad, Muse said.
"No kidding," I said to him. Then my eyes widened. "That's it! Sad! I'll do angst!"
Suddenly Jamie died. "Oh, Jamie!" Bobo cried. "We never got a chance to know each other!" Then he stopped crying. "I wonder if your best friend is still available?" he asked Jamie's corpse.
Okay, this is getting long. How about a happy ending? Muse suggested.
I tapped my pencil on the desk. "Okay, I guess."
Then Jamie came back to life, Bobo proposed to her, and she replied, (and I quote) "Of course, you sexy bird!"
The End
What an ending.
"Isn't it?" I said, proudly surveying my work.
I was being sarcastic.
"Wonderful," I said distractedly. I was trying to figure out how to end this story. "Say goodnight Gracie."
My name's not Gracie.
"Just say it."
It.
"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" I asked rhetorically.
Nope.
"Fine," I muttered and set down my pencil.
Disclaimer: Poe owns the poem "The Raven". "Twilight Zone" belongs to whoever created it. Pink belongs to whatever evil person invented it. Jamie and Bobo belong to their padded cells. And Muse is the voice in my head, so therefore he belongs to me. I resent that.
A/N: I warned you it was pointless. So sue me. :'Þ This is dedicated to all the other weird people out there.