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[impure_tale]

My readers, I am afflicted. Not by any present flooding, not by violent protest, not even by a nannying Warden. No, my tormentor is something a good deal more wicked.

Writers block, my lovelies. What am I to do?

Comments

[fathersbludgeon]

And so the population of the barge let out a unanimous cheer.

[impure_tale]

Oh my -- two four-syllable words! Does your head hurt, now?

[fathersbludgeon]

Why so fucking touchy? Your ass got empty nest syndrome of something?

[impure_tale]

I just enjoy the banter with you, actually.

[fathersbludgeon]

Huh.

[fathersbludgeon]

How you healed up now?

[impure_tale]

Indeed I am.

Why?

[fathersbludgeon]

Just-----No rea--in retrospect, beating the shit outta you was kinda counterproductive.

...

But you're so fucking pretentious, I ain't exactly guilty about it.

[impure_tale]

Fair enough.

I am appreciative of the honesty even if it likely wasn't given willingly -- considering the nature of this flood.

But I was quite forthcoming with you before: I hardly knew anything about you. You therefore would not have been the subject of one of my stories.