(Cause you asked for it.)
There Mike sat at the writing desk. It seemed as though he had not moved for hours since he had first sat down. But it was probably more like twenty minutes. He had a pencil in his hand but had neglected to find a piece of paper to write on. However, as soon as he realized that he didn't have any paper he realized that it probably would not have made any difference to him. A large amount of writer's block had shown up and it had spent the majority of the twenty minutes eating away at Mike's brain. It had started out in the back of his brain, taking little nibbles out of it. Then soon it had begun to tunnel its way towards the front, just happily chomping away at what was left of his creativity.
Mike stared at the imaginary blank piece of paper before him and tapped the pencil on top of the desk. This was the worst case of writer's block he had ever experienced in his entire young life. With a sigh he leaned back in his chair. He cracked his knuckles over his neck before looking around the room a bit. While leaning back further in the chair he had not noticed the fact that one of the legs was about to break free from the chair. The leg snapped, causing the chair to give out beneath Mike. He tumbled backwards a little as he landed hard on the floor. Luckily for him, none of the other guys were around to witness it.
He stood up and dusted himself off. After moving the newly broken chair aside he then began to walk around the lower level of the house. As he walked he realized that it wasn't the writer's block that was the only thing that was bothering him. It was also the fact that he had been asked to write a love song. This, he knew, was the type of song that he couldn't just pull out of thin air. He would have to be very inspired by something specifically in order for him to be able to write a love song. Plus the fact that the other guys were so strongly encouraging him to write one was putting him off the process even more.
Right then he had never wished more that he had kept his mouth shut about something. At the time when he had said they were going to have all new songs for the band contest, he didn't really think it was a very big deal. Of course at the time he had no idea that he would now be faced with a bunch of writer's block. He also didn't think that he would have his friends trying to get him to write about something that he didn't want to write about at this given time.
Why should I write a love song? Why can't any of them write one? Maybe we could just do a cover version of someone else's love song. Would that work? Wait. Didn't the guy say we needed all original material? Ah crap. Of all the times for me to get damn writer's block. How in the hell am I supposed to get through this?
All of this was going through his mind as he paced the floor. He had no idea why he had so much refusal towards this one specific task at hand. In fact this was the first time he could recall ever refusing to write a certain song.
He took a deep breath and held the air in his cheeks for a moment before letting it out. Then after a little bit of standing in one spot, not really thinking about anything, Mike decided to actually do something. He knew he had to get his mind off of trying to write a song for the contest, or else his writer's block was going to drive him crazy.
Without thinking anything, or realizing it, Mike found himself outside just walking around. At first he just pointed himself in a random direction and just started walking. Things outside seemed to be pretty quiet and uneventful. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets to keep them warm and began whistling a tune to himself. As he walked he didn't pay attention to any one else around him, keeping mainly to himself. People had passed him by, often showing him their friendly smiling faces. He'd give them a nod of the head, sometimes adding a "hello" and maybe a small smile if it was someone he knew. The entire time that he walked around through town his mind was at ease. For once that day he felt relaxed and he wasn't thinking about anything that had to do with any songs or the band contest.
There was a fog that started out pretty light but as Mike walked it started becoming thicker and thicker. However, it wasn't so thick that he couldn't see where he was heading. He stopped at a corner and looked up across the street towards the crosswalk sign. But with the fog it was a little hard for him to see the light change. The light changed and then Mike began to cross. There was a car coming towards his direction, and it was clear that because of the fog, the driver couldn't see Mike very well. The car came to a quick stop but not on time to avoid hitting him. Mike had no time to react to the car and he was knocked to the ground.
Mike had not been knocked out when he hit the ground but he still couldn't quite fathom what had happened to him. All he knew was he had the wind knocked out of him and he was in pain. Someone told him not to try to get up. But even if he wanted to get up the pain in his leg was preventing him from doing so. The next thing that he knew, he was in the back on an ambulance and being taken to the hospital. He was told that he wasn't injured too badly but his injuries weren't worrying him. All he could think about right then, besides the pain in his leg, was the song that he was supposed to write for the contest. He had no idea why this was bothering him so much. No song that he had to write ever gave him so much problems as this song was giving him.
The guy in the ambulance was talking to Mike about something or other. But he wasn't paying attention to what was being said. The task of writing a song was driving him crazy. And his leg hurt like hell. However, sometimes he forgot about the pain because of the song, and vice versa.
Mike lay with his leg propped up in the hospital bed. He had been examined and x-rayed all over after being hit by the car. Luckily for him the only major injury he had sustained was a broken leg. That meant there was no real reason for him to have to stay in the hospital. But he was lying in his hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling, just waiting for the other guys to show up and take him home. While laying there Mike's song muse began tapping him on the shoulder. He started to listen to his muse until it told him to do the one thing he didn't want to do; the thing that the other guys had strongly suggested him to write about. His muse must have been playing a joke on him because it was telling him to write a love song.
He tried everything he could think of to ignore his muse, hoping that it would go away. But his muse kept right on nagging and nagging at him. Finally he decided to give in to his muse's naggings and agreed to write a love song. However, he smirked to himself over the concept that he had come up with right then that this was not going to be a typical love song, especially from him. He knew that as soon as he got home, he was going to find some paper and write down the ideas that he was already getting. All he had to do now was to wait for his friends to show up. And he waited there in the hospital bed with a grin upon his face. This was going to be something that no one was expecting to come from him right then.
A nurse had come into the room once or twice but she seemed way too busy to bother with such things as answering Mike's questions, or even to take care of him properly. In fact, Mike wasn't even sure if she had noticed him being in the room. One time he had made an attempt at getting her attention, trying hard to call her by the right name. But apparently the name he had come up with wasn't the right one for her. Needless to say, she ignored him altogether. Mike decided that, upon her final exit from the room, she really wasn't all that important to him and his needs. He didn't realize it at the time but this was actually going to provide him with good material for his new song.
Now what was her name again?
He thought to himself as he caught a glimpse of the nurse just outside his room.
Mary? Carrie? Sherry? Terry? Oh man maybe I'm way off. Ah well. Not like knowing her name would make a difference in either of our lives.
Mike sat up and stretched his back. It had begun to feel a little stiff from lying in the uncomfortable hospital bed. And he had not been in the bed for very long. Once again the nurse came into the room to make a brief appearance before Mike. She quickly said something about his friends being there to take him home, and then she left the room before Mike had a chance to blink let alone thank her. But he figured that she wouldn't have paid any attention to him any way. Right after the very busy and not-so-caring nurse whatshername left, Micky Davy and Peter entered the room. Mike was so relieved to see them that he almost forgot about his broken leg and jumped out of the bed to greet them. Almost.
They helped him out of bed and to get ready to leave. As they did this, he began telling them what had happened to him and about his experience during his brief hospital stay. They listened to him while thinking how odd his behavior was; he actually seemed happy to have his leg broken. Mike was checked out of the hospital and helped out to the car. As he was comfortably seated (as comfortable as he could be with a broken leg) in the car, he was asked how he was feeling. He simply looked at them with a grin.
"Great." He said "I'm starting to get over my writer's block."
"Well I suppose that's one good thing to come out of this." Micky replied with a laugh
While the care drove away from the hospital, Mike leaned back a little in his seat. He gazed out the window and grinned softly to himself. He couldn't wait to get home, find some paper and get to work on his brand new song.
