Boredom (Part 2)

Poor reader

Your author is so mean.

How shall you ever survive him?

The agony

The woe

The torture!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . .

Though, seriously, you asked for it.

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Hmmmm, playing the stubborn card are we now?

Or are you simply refusing to reply because my wit is too astounding to match?

Not even close.

Ha! Made you talk!

Incorrect, you retort, I thought but I did not speak.

Depends on your perspective.

What is the definition of speech, anyhow?

No, I don’t mean the dictionary one.

More the – oh, what do they call it – the philosophical?

To Speak: The endeavor made by any person when they purpose to-

OK, no, I am not going through another raindrop scenario! You exclaim.

I am confused

Care to-

No you’re not.

Hmm, perhaps not, but that doesn’t mean I have to listen to you

After all, I am the author

Now, back to the previous question, which was-

Why don’t you make me close the book? You suddenly interrupt.

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I am astonished at your rudeness.

Oh please, you interrupt me all the time.

That’s not the same thing.

Uh, yeah it is.

Is not.

I am NOT doing this again, you growl.

And I don’t have to listen to you if I don’t want to.

You were the one trying to get me to talk in the first place.

No, if I recall correctly, every second you read this book, you are forcing me to communicate.

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Forcing is a little harsh, you grumble.

Is it? Do you have any idea how much my hands hurt from writing as fast as you read?

How much my mind hurts from trying to process your

Absurdly

Random

Thoughts.

I think ‘forcing’ isn’t harsh enough.

It wouldn’t be so bad if you would just be more willing!

Why should I be willing?

Because then it wouldn’t be painful.

No, you are wrong. It would be painful, but in a different way.

How?

I do not have answer that question.

In fact, I don’t have to listen to you at all.

I

Am

The

Author.

And you must do what I say.

Which is why-

You could have made me close the book? You interject.

Perhaps I do not choose to.

Perhaps you can’t, you retort.

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.

“To Speak: The endeavor made by a person when they purpose to-

You already said that.

Communicate with another in a form-

Hello!

Which may be understood by both parties-

I. Am. Talking!

For the mutual benefit and enlightenment-

So first you try to get me to talk and now-

Of each and every participant-

YOU WON’T EVEN LISTEN!?!

In the action.”

. . . You are really annoying.

Thank you.

It’s all part of the plot.

You know the plot? You ask.

No, I am plotting

Many

Deliciously

Unpleasant-

Distractions, you mumble.

I was going to say ‘things’ but I suppose that works too.

Now, as we were discussing-

To discuss indicates two or more people participating, you point out, and you were monologuing.

Ahhh, yes, have you ever read Shakespeare?

Some excellent monologues in his works!

One of my favorite begins: “Have I not reason, bedlams as you are. Saucy and-”

Why don’t you just make me close the book?

Incorrect, the monologue actually continues-

Why?

Because that’s how Shakespeare wrote it.

No, why won’t you make me close the book?

There you go misquoting again. Certainly not a good comment on your education. Now, to restate:

Why. Won’t. You. Make. Me. Close. The. Book?!?

Adding extra punctuation does not turn a misquote into a quote, my dear reader.

Arrghhhhh.

Nope, that’s not part of it either. But let me enlighten you:

I’m done with this. You think, standing abruptly and stomping across your room to your . . .

Desk.

Why would you want to go there?

The view is much more lovely by the window!

How about we turn you around, eh?

Just walk the other way and-

No, I am doing what I want to do, not what you make me do, you mentally growl, plunking into your swivel-chair.

And turning on the lamp.

And laying down the book.

And closing i-

Nope, not closing, because you can’t make me, you think.

And reaching for a pen.

A pen? Why a pen?

You stare at it for a moment and take a deep breath.

(may I ask what you are doing?)

Ask away, you think, I don’t have to answer you.

(What are you doing?)

You un-cap the pen.

And look down at the page whereon these words are forming as you read them.

I have an idea, you think softly to yourself,

And take another deep breath

(care to share?)

(How about we talk about this?)

(I would be very curious to know your idea)

(Just so I can be certain to help you.)

(You know, in case it is anything

Stupid

Or reckless

Or just

Plain

Dumb)

“I don’t need your help,” you say.

(I wouldn’t be too sure about that-)

“Oh, but I am,” you reply.

You lift your pen over This Book is Not Worth Reading’s next page and-

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Don’t. You. Dare.