Fictionlet
Greg lay on the couch, idly scritching behind the ears of Ozymandias, who sat on his chest purring quietly. “I feel like being witty and insightful today,” Greg said.
“No skin off my nose,” said Brigid, sitting in the recliner with the ruins of the Sunday paper splattered around her feet. “Go right ahead.”
“Well, that’s the thing,” said Greg. “You can’t just spontaneously be witty and insightful; it needs prompting.”
“Ah,” said Brigid.
Time passed.
A minute later, time continued to pass.
“No suggestions, eh?” said Greg.
“Not really.”
“Oh well.”
A bit more time got bored and passed.
“I suppose,” said Brigid, “you could be insightful and witty about lazing around the house.”
Greg pondered this for a moment, then said, “I suppose I could, but what’s the point? It’s like writing a haiku about doorknobs.”
“There you go, wit and insight. Mission accomplished.”
“Huh,” said Greg. “I suppose so. But I was hoping for something better.”
-The Gneech
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