Smoking like a goddamn train, unable to do anything else, to see any other way out, didn’t matter one bit when suddenly oh so distant friends decided to give her a shout
She was in the zone, no time at all for a weakened bitch and a moan about this and that, what may or may not have happened at work
The words that she wrote simply had to take people up and away from the utter need to fall through the door home in search of the remote
How on earth was she going to do this? She took a pull, long and hard, her newly pierced ears charred with all of the crazy music going on in the background
Didn’t matter because she didn’t really seem to let herself hear a sound other than what was beginning to go on inside of those pages, rough in the beginning, but with a little more concentration, a lot more time, those words would surely one day begin to chime
A story about a man who really had only ever gone along with just the one plan, to become this world’s finest ventriloquist
This was it, his time to shine, if nowhere else then it would have to be inside of this unknown writer’s words
An absurd occupation by many a reckoning but this was all that he had ever been prepared to do with his time, even while on vacation with his family
Of course, his kids loved it, getting to sit and watch their father make the puppet talk, even as much as make him/her do a dance, followed by a nice and subtle walk in the direction of whatever came to his mind next, always and forever open to suggestions on the audiences part, it all about leaving the most jaw-dropping impression
This, for him, was indeed one of the finest arts out there, would even as much as kneel alongside his bed at night and say a quick prayer to the high heavens before both their eyes got shut – mute
He always just knew when he was on-song or not, depended whether or not his voice seemed to be coming at his audience from the exact spot drawn at the centre of the puppet’s mouth