“I feel like a dead waffle.” Shannon wasn’t listening. She was performing a weird little tap-dance on the curb. “I feel,” I said, my voice rising in pitch, “like a murdered waffle!” Shannon’s feet stopped moving; she teetered dangerously on the curb, and blinked at me from underneath her bangs.“Waffles,” she pronounced, “cannot die. Things that are not living cannot die, because they never lived. In order to die you have to live.”
“So?” I howled, “It’s a metaphor! And I just so happen to metaphorically feel like a dead waffle.”
“Murdered waffle.” Shannon grinned at me. “You said murdered waffle.” She sat down abruptly on the curb, and her knees collided awkwardly with her chin.
And that, dear readers, is a sample of my "creative writing." Actually, it's the sort of thing that I write to amuse my little brothers. They thought this one was particularly hilarious, especially when I told them that it was supposed to be a caricature of me and Sam. (Hm. Guess which one was me?)
Anyway. I'll probably be annoyed with myself for posting this later on. But I feel singularly un-creative right now, so I was obliged to dig up something embarrassing from my old files.
I also needed to point out that I re-did the design (again). And I love it. It's definitely staying. The other design looked nice, but I didn't love it (or even like it that much). I also have a new blog button to match. It's lovely too. And . . . erm . . . that's all I have to say. So . . . Toodles!