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Martin & Harriet
- A Writing Afternoon
God, Martin! Must you
read over my shoulder all the time?
Can’t you find SOMETHING to do??
Darling, it’s not
exactly like I can go putter in the garden, or work on the car.
I’m ectoplasm, woman! Best
I can do is ooze about the engine, maybe lubricating it a bit if I
concentrate. That is, if
I’m even able to go to the garage.
There are some
drawbacks to having you around dead.
Mind you, the drawbacks when you were alive were much harder to
take. Pretty much.
Well…yes, much harder to take.
Nice.
Thank you, Darling. I
love you, too.
Oh Martin, cut the
drama. You were never good
at the pouty lip thing. Ever. I always
saw through it. If we’d
had children, I was in danger of having them sport that phony put-on as
well. You were SUCH a baby,
Martin. I couldn’t stand
that about you.
Well Harriet, now that
I’m mist, don’t hold back. Do
tell me exactly how you feel.
Anyway Martin, do try
to keep to your ceiling area, please.
I’m trying to write and I never could do that with you
hovering.
Forgive me if I drift,
Darling. Mists do that, you know.
Blah Blah Blah. So
you’re dead. We’re both adjusting.
Just please do rattle your chains elsewhere. I can’t get any work done, chattering with you.
Honestly!
Rattle chains
elsewhere? Woman., if you
were any more thick I’d worry for you.
Obviously I’m stuck here with you.
Believe me, if I could go “rattle chains elsewhere”, I’d
jump to it in a heart beat. Provided
I had a heartbeat….
Yes, yes….stop
muttering. What’s a
seven letter word for complacence?
Harriet, I thought you
said you were working.
Shhhhh… I’m busy.
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