He's treated me poorly all these years. Stuffing me into his pocket - with the lint! I'll snap in half next time I'm in the ignition.
They really screwed up this time. Punching a hole in the side of the universe isn't an easy fix. But I always patch everything up.
Melpomene mused more morosely.
“My maidens and menservants cannot
make me merry,” she cried melodically.
“Was that a minor key?” I thought.
I held my hand behind my ear. “It has to be.”
I listened, but surprisingly she did not.
I stretched my ear close, yet what I heard
Was wild and weird. It was not
Her normal, melancholy dirge.
“My mythic metaphors miss the mark.
I wish for inspiration.” And then two worlds merged.
“Mortal,” she meant me, “I want something dark.”
Could a more morbid command be given?
For the most malefic art.
To implant ideas in the mistress of depression?
- Dan Fawcett