I Hate Writing

By Darby Larson

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I hate writing.

Don't get me wrong, I love coming up with stories, I just hate typing them in a computer and printing them out and making sure the margins are all straight. It's a waste of my fucking time, is what it is.

So one day I was watching TV and a commercial came on that said, "New brainskull upgrades! Only 100 dollars! You'll never have to write another story again!" so I went to the brainskull upgrade store and said, "how's it going" to the guy behind the desk and he said, "hello sir, let me show you what we have."

He took me into a fancy room with lots of lights and advertisements on the walls. The salesman pointed to a man sitting in the middle of the fancy room. He told me this was Ed and that Ed was going to demonstrate the benefits of a brainskull upgrade. Ed was sitting in a chair thinking hard about something and then all of a sudden this paper comes flying out of his ear. It freaked me out a little. It came out in a sort of rolled up cylindrical shape and then unfolded and got caught in the air current and floated down to the floor. Ed picked it up and read it and put it in a folder and smiled at me and the salesman. "Holy shit! What just happened there?" I asked, and the salesman said it works like this:

"All you have to do is think of a story and it just pops out of your head. You don't have to worry about typing or setting margins or anything ever again!"

"You mean I just think of a story and it comes out through my ear already proofread for spelling mistakes and edited and everything?"

"Yes siree!"

I thought for a second, then said, "Will it let me use the Helvetica font?"

"Absolutely."

"Sold."

Eat your heart out John Steinbeck, I thought. Now I'll be able to write the Great American Novel just by thinking about it!

I spent four days in the brainskull upgrade wing and had my brain and skull surgically transformed. It was a long process of decapitation and fiddling around with my neurons and drilling holes in my skull and shit.

Four days later, I was lying in my bed in the recuperation area and the doctor came in and said:

"How do you feel?"

I decided to give it a try and thought really hard and a paper flew out of my ear. It was the strangest feeling I've ever had, like someone stuffed a vacuum cleaner on my ear and turned it on full blast. The paper flew out and I caught it and read it. It said:

-Damn, I feel amazing, how do you feel doc?

I handed the paper to the doc and he sort of chuckled and said, great son, I feel great.

It was true. I felt amazing.

I decided to go home and start writing... er thinking a novel that very day. I left the hospital and got in my car and started driving, but there was a traffic jam on the freeway. Then a paper flew out of my ear. I picked it up and it said:

-GOD DAMNIT! FUCKING TRAFFIC!

Holy cow. Did I just think that? I guess I did.

Then another paper flew out my ear. It said:

-Holy cow. Did I just think that? I guess I did.

I ignored the notes and kept on driving and then I noticed an incredibly beautiful woman driving a white truck. She was wearing a white tank top and her hair was blonde and then a paper flew out my ear. It said:

-DAMN, look at her! I'd sure like to...

I quickly crumpled up the paper and kept driving, trying not to think about anything. I was sweating a little.

I finally got home and I went to the living room and sat in my chair and started thinking about the novel I was going to think.

I closed my eyes and thought. Then papers started coming out of my ear and I continued to think. I stopped and picked up some of the papers and read them and they sounded good. I was a little relieved. This might actually work. I was getting really tired and I was just really glad to be home after four days of brain surgery. So I went to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, there were papers scattered all over the bed and on the floor and everywhere. This ought to be interesting, I thought.

I picked one up and it said:

-...my dog walked around on the ceiling eating coco puffs and reading the morning paper and then my old Army buddy came over and said what the hell is up with coco puffs man, don't give your dog coco puffs. No, man, you can't! Never ever do this again, if you want to see tomorrow! I swear I'll kill you man, just go watch cartoons or something but don't give your dog coco puffs or else you'll...

I threw the paper back on the floor.

I got out of bed. Shit, shower, shave. Went to the kitchen and had some coffee.

I wasn't thinking about anything when a paper flew out my ear. I picked it up and it said:

-Hi

I thought, this is strange. Am I talking to myself or what?

Hi, I thought.

Another paper flew out of my ear. It said:

-I was wondering if I could ask a favor.

Sure, I thought.

Another woosh from my ear.

-You see, I'm actually a separate entity living inside your head. I was told by a bunch of doctors to just read your thoughts and spit out papers, but I'm already getting tired of this shit. Your thoughts are so boring and I've been feeling like I need to get out and do stuff you know? How would you feel if you were stuck in someone's head forever?

Well, I thought, I guess I wouldn't... but before I could finish thinking, another paper flew out.

-Anyway, here's what I want you to do. The only way I can get out is if you pick out your eyeball and then I can get out through your eye socket and then you can just put back your eyeball and everything will be back to normal, what do you say?

I thought, this is a little drastic. I don't think I feel okay about taking out my own eyeball. How do I know it will work again? And I thought you were going to help me write the Great American Novel.

-The Great American Novel? There's no such thing. Trust me, this will work, just pick out your eyeball with a spoon or something.

It better still work, I thought. I picked up a fork and stuck it in the side of my eyeball and scooped it out and holy shit, it hurt!

My eyeball lay on the kitchen table next to my coffee and I waited and waited, but nothing left through my eye socket.

Or maybe it did and I didn't realize it.

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Darby Larson likes words. Like these. Hi. Now, visit his website: http://darby.tv

Woo hoo!