Rubber Ducky Copywriter

Well, I nag (encourage) you all to write, write, write, even if it’s rubbish and the blank page is making you feel like a town drunk-turned-jester. I practice what I nag. And here’s a sample of what I wrote this morning when my brain looked at the blank page and said, “adkfnadnoiheroihg;eronew;nba;oibnae;orih.” (Which I’m pretty sure it brain-speak for “nuts to this.”)

Disclaimer: This may have been inspired by the sewing together of several true stories.

Here we go…

The Wife

Once upon a time, in a faraway writing room, a small woman sat with her small cat. Outside, sun struggled to leak through the clouds. In the next room, the woman’s husband sat at his own desk, writing his own work and trying not to think of much of anything. He did enough thinking at work and this was his day off.

“Rubbish and bullshit,” she said to herself as the words kept to themselves. She’d been reading a lot of British literature lately. She’d been looking forward to this rare break of writing time for weeks. Marked it on her calendar. Woke up early to get her day’s must-have tasks done and out of her way.

Only now, with the blank page before her, she could only think of one thing: “Why has my husband been so loving lately?”

Most women would trade their firstborns for a husband who told them how he appreciated them and how much he loved them for several days in a row. But she knew her husband too well.

 “He’s up to something.”

Mayhap he was planning her murder.

The Husband

Once upon a time, in the room next to the writing room, a husband sat at his computer, looking up his latest baseball card trades. Or so it seemed. Page after page after page, he scrolls and clicked and scrolled some more. He smiled; his latest purchases looked like good investments. That one card he bought for less than ten dollars was now worth almost fifteen bucks. Wheeling and dealing, indeed.

“There she goes again,” he thought. He knew what his wife’s thinking sounded like; all five thousand types of thinking. And right now, her imagination was on to something new.

He knew why. He knew he’d been more attentive than usual over the past several days. Saying thank you for doing the dishes and taking out the trash. Telling her that he was the luckiest man on earth because he’d married her. And right now, he imagined she figured he was up to something.

His wife was right. This husband was also harboring a dark secret. And he was desperately hoping that his latest affections would serve him well when that secret was revealed.

Five days ago, he’d found a cat barf in the dining room. And it was so vile, he’d left it there for her to clean.

The Cat

Once upon the same time as her humans, a delicate kitty cat with a coat as supple as dawn’s early light upon the serene ocean’s rippling surface, sat in the window sill of the wife’s writing room.

A single thought brought a smile to the kitty’s lips and a purr to her heart.

“This is gonna be good.”

The end

Epilogue

And it was good. Good and dried to the carpet.