You'd Be Nothing Without Me--rated K+

by redrider Sun Nov 30, 2008 2:17 pm

A/N: Okay, here's the thing. I wrote this bit of humor for a contest over on fanstory and wanted to share it with my friends here. Anyone who writes, fanfiction or other stuff, can probably relate to this. Hope you enjoy!

Tapping my ragged fingernails on the table, I glanced at my watch again. I’d give her five minutes, then I was outta here. I had better things to do with my time than sit in a busy diner waiting for her to show. If I wasn’t so desperate to find out what the hell her problem was, I would’ve already left.

Maybe she was leaving me. My fingers stilled. She’d never do that to me, would she? After all we’d accomplished, everything we’d been through together? Sweat trickled down my back and I rubbed my damp hands on my jeans as I looked around anxiously. Then she walked in and my eyes bugged. Who would have guessed she’d been hiding that body under the baggy sweats she always wore?

My muse strode in on four-inch purple spiked heels like the queen she was, permed carrot-red hair piled high on her regal head. The purple sequined halter top left little to the imagination, and hot pink leggings snuggled her endless legs. Sex appeal radiated from every pore and I waited for the males in the place to start drooling before I remembered none of them could see her. She sashayed over to my booth and sat down with a sigh.

“Sorry I’m late, sugar. Had a hell of a time prettyin’ myself up. You know how long it takes to get my makeup just right?” She batted her inch-long eyelashes at me and flashed a flirtatious smile.

In the interest of familial harmony, I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but I couldn’t control the snarky tone. “I don’t know why you bothered. It’s not like anyone else can appreciate the effort. And you are well aware that I don’t swing that way.”

Poking out a hot pink lip in a pout, she whined, “Now, sweetie, don’t be that way. I don’t get out much, so when I do, I like to look my best. C’mon, tell me how hot I look.”

My eyes dropped to her cleavage for a second, then bounced back up to meet her wicked green gaze.

“You know you do. Now, quit foolin’ around and get to the point. I have stuff to do.”

“Fine. You wanna be that way? I can be all business, if that’s how you wanna roll.” Digging in her huge lime green purse, she pulled out a piece of paper and slapped in on the table between us.

“What’s that?” I asked, eyeing the paper like it was a venomous snake.

“Demands. Conditions. Whatever you wanna call them. If you want me to keep workin’ for you, you’re gonna start treatin’ me better.”

“Treating you?” I shouted. A shocked hush fell and I peeked at the other patrons. They were all staring at me. With a weak grin and a mouthed ‘sorry’, I slouched down in my seat and glared at my muse. “What’s wrong with how I’ve been treating you?”

“You’re demanding and rude, expecting me to work all hours of the day and night, to be at your service at the click of a mouse.”

I gritted my teeth, fighting to keep my temper and my voice low. “You’re my muse. Aren’t you supposed to help me with my writing whenever I need you?”

She raised her chin. “I am not your slave, cherie. I have a life and other interests. It is unreasonable to expect me to drop everything every time you get the urge to write.”

Gasp. “What do you mean, a life? Other interests? You’re my muse! I am your reason for being.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, missy. I checked with the union and I have rights—“

“There’s a union?” My voice jumped a decibel and glances shot my way. I paled and swallowed hard. If I didn’t watch it, I was going to get thrown out, or worse, someone was going to call the men in the nice white coats.

“Of course there’s a union.” She straightened in her seat and gave me a look that should have turned me to ash. “Are you going to listen to my terms or not?”

Sigh. “Go ahead.”

She smiled so wide I could see the gold crown on her rear posterior molar. “Thanks, sugar. Okay, first, I want four weeks vacation a year.”

“Four weeks! Does that include all the times you go AWOL in the middle of a story?”

“No.” The look on my face must have been pitiful, because she softened. “Listen, honey, I’ll tell you a secret.”

I leaned in.

“It’s your fault I disappear sometimes.”

My mouth fell open and my eyes popped wide.

“You know how the words just flow like crazy at times?” she asked patiently.
I nodded.

“That’s what happens when you’re listening to me. It’s when you try to take control and go your own way that I pull the ghosty act.”

My jaw clenched. “It’s my story. Don’t I have the right to take it where I want to go with it?”

Her gaze was arctic. “Fine. What do you need me for then?”

Gulp. Me and my big mouth. “Awww, now, you know that’s not what I meant. I appreciate your inspiration, really I do, but can’t I do some of it myself?”

She folded her arms under her ample bosom and glared. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Mystified, I slowly shook my head. Maybe I didn’t want to hear this, but I had a feeling I had no choice.

“I’m you, sweetie.” She watched me process that little gem, tapping her pink manicured nails on her arm. Finally she took pity on my poor, struggling brain. “I’m your creativity, your imagination, your freakin’ talent! Without me, you’d never get another light bulb moment. Ever.” Popping her gum, she examined her nails while I tried to digest that nugget.

Wow. I remembered all the times I had cussed her, when I wasn’t begging, cajoling and bribing her to give me something, anything to write. And the whole time I’d been fighting with myself. It was mind boggling.

“So what are you saying? That I should just relax and let you take over?”

Eye roll. “Will you listen to yourself? I’m you, so you just asked me if you should let you take over.” She glanced away. “It’s a frickin’ miracle you manage to string two coherent sentences together,” she muttered.

“Okay, I get it, I’ll stop struggling with you. What else?”

“Quit bad mouthing me to everyone. I’ve got feelings, too, you know.”

Oh, for Pete’s sake. “Done. Is that all?”

She glanced at her list. “That about covers it.” Shoving the paper into her purse, she stood and straightened to her considerable height, cocking her hip. “Gotta go. I’m late for the muses’ annual New Year’s Eve party. I hear there’s gonna be a smokin’ band, and maybe I’ll find some gorgeous stud to ring in the new year with.” She gave me a pitying look. “I suppose you’re gonna go home and hit the sack before twelve bells?”

“Well, yeah, you know I don’t go for all that craziness, and what with all the drunks on the road—“

Waving her hand, she laughed. “Never mind. Good thing you got me to live vicariously through, honey, or you’d wither away from boredom. See ya later.”

Panic rose. What if I never saw her again? “Wait! I’ve got that deadline Tuesday—“

She grinned and winked, aiming a finger at me. “Gotcha covered, cherie. Goodnight.”

Then I was alone. I kept my eyes down to avoid the curious looks I knew were aimed my way. Digging in my purse, I pulled out a twenty and laid it on the table. I needed to leave before the paddy wagon arrived.

So, what did you think? Wasn't that fun?