It was a busy weekend in the mountains.
No, I mean that — it was freakin’ BUSY.
This afternoon, I walked into my local watering hole for lunch, only to find the list of crap they did not have to be far longer than what they did. Even worse, they were all-but out of beer. Do yo have any idea just how much penance I will have to do if I drink a Bud Light?*
I’m not sure there’s enough forgiveness in the universe for THAT particular sin. I mean, crap…I’m still paying off my bad-karma from drinking PBR all last summer in Yellowstone, and I’m not sure my beer-soul can handle anymore bad news at this point.
Yeah, yeah, I know…nothin’ but first (mountain) world problems. But they’re MY first-world problems! I demand more, goddammit!
Ummm, wait, what was I saying? Geez, talk about your random ranting-squirrel moment! All I can offer as excuse is brain-numbing frustration. I’m trying to work up a freelance writing piece at the moment, one based on the (crappy) job I took to make ends meet for the moment, and I can’t find the right freaking tone to save my life.
So, I made a joke a while ago about a “potential” fantasy story about a hero who was great at clearing dungeons, but absolute crap at everything else. It was flippant and off-hand and never meant to be anything more than a throw-away line in a blog post…
But I like the idea.
God help me, I really do like the idea.
Which — of course — means that, while I was supposed to be working on my freelance piece, I jotted down a few lines of story intro…
“Gods, Vyr, I stopped the damned goblins. They never laid a finger on you!” Remniras — Remmy, to his friends — complained. “Why are we still talking about this?”
Vyr — Vyrtutus, more properly — just shook his head. He paused to sip at the cup at his elbow, and then to sip some more. He took an unreasonable amount of time to sip, Remmy thought.
Finally, Vyr cleared his throat and explained, “Look, Remmy, it’s not you…it’s me, okay? I just can’t do this anymore. You’ve been a great partner and all that, but I just think I need to try a different path for a while.”
“Wait…you’re dumping me?!” the big, dark-haired warrior roared.
Crap…I have no developed characters, no plot, and no real story…
What I do have is an urge to work on this darkly comedic/satiric story about a semi-dysfunctional, socially-awkward hero with relationship problems…
Err…sorry…gotta go, now…I got me some characters to work out!
*I ended up drinking Fat Tire, by the way…which, honestly, is nothing more than over-priced Bud Light for hipster assholes. I hate the entire Universe right now.