Want to see what happens when a fully paid up procrastinator gets bored of editing a piece and gives himself three minutes to write a drabble?
Read on my friends…read on…
Ahem…(not a word just clearing my throat and demarcating the start of the aforementioned three minute drabble. As you were. Move along. And ignore the asterisk.)
Neither of my kids wanted to be my Valentine.
I don’t blame them.
At least not for the Valentine refusal.
There’s plenty of other shit that may or may not be their fault.
My wife went along with it – the being my Valentine thing rather than being complicit in the things I may have invented about the kids – but really, deep down she knew that the only joy I’d get out of it was constructing useless anagrams out of the words themselves.
My favourite so far is Vile Antsy Dane.
Like you care.
Like anyone cares.
I blame fucking Hallmark.
Right. I’d best get back to some red wine. I mean very VERY important editing stuff.