(to a country-western twang)

I want to write a story, I want to write a tale
I want to see it published and get checks in the mail
I wanna be the hottest thing that you have ever seen
but all that I am doing, is staring at the screen!

I’ve got a case of writer’s block, as you can plainly see
I had it something awful now, since 2000-and-3!
I’ve got character and setting, but I haven’t got a shot
’cause all these things are useless if I haven’t got a plot

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail

Perhaps I try a bit too hard, perhaps I should relax
perhaps I oughta just write down a tale based on the facts
Just give your guy a problem, the writing coaches say
then figure out how his quirks will help him save the day

But nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail

It’s causing me some anguish, my lame attempts at art
you can’t ever finish, what you never start
But your muse will never flourish, when threatened by a gun
so I’m gonna write a filk about it, and then call it done

’cause nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
Nothing happens in my tale

Nothing happens!
Nothing happens!
My story is a fail!

-The Gneech

For the Confuzzled conbook, just a bit of geeky fun. Click through for larger image.

Enjoy!

-The Gneech

(To the tune of “The Beverly Hillbillies”)…

Lemme tellee little story ’bout a man named Nahum [1]
he lived west o’ Arkham and never did any harm [2]
Then one day a hill exploded in his face
and Nahum had to cope with a colour outa space!

(An alien that is. Amorphous. Intangible.)

Well the first thing you know, ol’ Nahum’s lookin’ spare
his kinfolk said, “Nahum, move away from there!”
But Nahum and his folks couldn’t muster up the fight
and the trees and hills were glowin’ in the night

(From radiation, that is. Sickly crops, mutated animals.)

Well now it’s time to say goodbye to Nahum and his kin
not that there’s much left of ’em except some dust and skin
They’re dammin’ up the river and floodin’ the whole place
so now yer drinkin’ water’s full o’ colour out of space!

(Y’all flee for your lives now, y’hear?)

-The Gneech

[1] Pronounced “naaum”
[2] Pronounced in a New England accent, “haam”

EDIT: Maxgoof recorded it! Click through to hear it.

The leg bone’s connected to the arm bone
The arm bone’s connected to the head bone
The head bone’s connected to the telephone
Now cheer the nerds on the job

The left bone’s connected to the right bone
The Fred bone’s connected to the Ethel bone
The football’s connected to the end zone
The lyrics are coming undone

Dem bones dem bones live underground
dem bones dem bones gonna go to town
dem bones dem bones never hear a sound
da dee da dum de da dum

No bone’s connected to the nose bone
my tongue is connected to the Toblerone
Greg Peck was in The Guns of Navarone
da dee da dum de da dum
da dee da dum de da dum
da dee da dum de da dum

-The Gneech

I used to wonder if it was the whole world that was crazy, or if it was just me.

Then I realized, there’s no reason it can’t be both!

-The Gneech ^(;,;)^