dandelionfiles

"Hey--it's three am--could you ask her to stop giggling loudly? I'm trying to get some sleep," Tony grumbled, barely awake.

I looked at the doorway. It took a moment to recognize her, but I knew she was back. She'd turned on the lights and the cats were surrounding her as if begging for more inspiration for trouble, so I figured I'd better pay attention before she decided another vacation was in ofder.

"Hi, Jules!" She blew me a kiss. "I bought you a T-shirt!" She held up a tank with the words, "MY MUSE WENT ON SPRING BREAK IN FLORIDA, TIJUANA, BARBADOS, and CALIFORNIA BUT ALL SHE BROUGHT BACK WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT".

"Good thing your chest is large enough to fit the letters!" She giggled, then passed out on the bed. She reeked of liquor and various types of seafood. My husband, Tony, grumbled irritably.

"Hey, I thought guys always wanted to share a bed with two women," I argued. After a few weeks without my muse, I wasn't about to make her feel unwelcome. I missed writing, after all. My fingers were twitchy without posting for so long.

"Mrrumph," he uttered, falling asleep again. Translation: "Yeah, that'd be great if I happened to have any energy to take advantage and if it wasn't three in the morning and I have to get up in three hours to go to work and be physically productive today." Men can say so much with so few syllables.

I looked my muse over. I already knew she'd been in trouble--the police had demanded that I pay her traffic tickets already, and I already bailed her out of the slammer once. However, I'm a writer and she's got me at her mercy--what else can I do?

I just don't know WHAT I'm going to tell that nice guy who keeps calling here, searching for her. What if she's just the "love 'em and leave 'em" type?

And why couldn't she at least stopped in long enough to buy me a ticket to take me to the Barbados with her? I mean, I've served her for decades--