The Pen
April 30, 2019
So every Saturday in Dublin, few crazy people meet. We do a writing session, somewhere in forgotten buildings, at Parnell Square Street. A prompt is taken from the “prompt bag” and most of the people try to write around that phrase. This week prompt was: “The pen is the tongue of the mind-Cervantes”. So many nice people come here, and last Saturday we stayed so late, that I ended up drawing part of the crew… Story I camed up with: “It was a sunny Sunday morning in Ireland and the Starbucks near the river Liffey presented the best chocolate muffins any hangover young adult could wish for. George did his best to look as if he had 8 hours of sleep, though the glimpses he caught of his reflection at the coffee shop windows made him question why wasn’t he more metrosexual, or why wasn’t make-up a more social approved thing by men for men in the manly men community. -Long life the fight of the LGBT social warriors!! -What?- Said the man on the counter. -Muffins, muffins. Chocolate ones! – George paused- Make them three. Ouh! And the burrito! That one with the chicken!! And a matcha! Vanilla matcha!! Big yeah, yeah big! Heading to a seat with his trail a sort of urge washed over him, an urge to kill the person he had to meet, and then a mere anger towards oneself for always sorting himself in weird situations. Then a feeling called embaressment managed to wagle itself at the base of his gut. -Life!- he muttered sitting down. -Life wants you dead!- a geeck on his right said- that is its intention!- The geeck was not looking at him he was sitting comfortably on the faux-brown-leather sofa near him, scribbling down with his pen in its wasted notebook and as he was not interrupted he may have thought that that was an invitation to keep on going: Life is a STD with no cure, that ends in death! Life…. – Ouh “Jaysus”!!! I am here just for the food not for a philosophy class! The geeck reassed in his seat and continued on with his scribbling. The face he presented assesed what he said earlier. (maybe that’s why he was still alive). Maria arrived 10 minutes late with a Vanilla Muffin and a Moca. Of course she looked delightful, not so much delighted. George hoped his aspect was at least decent, decent enough, especially after munching down all that food in a fashion that confirmed his Neanderthal ancestry. -‘ Had a big one yesterday didn’t you?- she said with a smirk. -Brilliant one!! Your brother had the best stag party ever! And look! Here I am to continue with the details of the wedding gift! So early in the morning after… -It’s fifteen o’clock George. -Trust me it’s morning. Maria chuckled, and the geeck reassed his bony ass on its seat with disdain and a humph after hearing the words ”stag party”. -Have you brought a pen? I am in my lunch break now and I have none. -Nope, I don’t, but he has.-George pointed at the geeck then moved his body to face him and with a full gasp of air said: “Life is a sexually transmitted disease and the mortality rate is one hundred percent.” R. D. Laing said it, remember to always say the author. You know? Copywrite bussiness! Before the poor teenager could say something Maria stepped up and took George by the shoulder guiding him to another table. She knew her brother bestie quit a lot, and they did not have the time. -The pen is the tongue of the mind.- She said once seated. -“Cervantes” he added… -My God! The theme of the Stags party is because of you!! -Drunken writers!- Georges smiled. -That explains why you lost your pen!” __________________________________________________ Writing in a group is delightful, so I always try to be at least twice a month there, to sharpen whatever I’ve got from this craft. What about you? Don’t You love Saturday’s?