Asinine to Zoloft

A writing prompt came my way.

Blindly, I said I’d do it.

Cheryl, (yes, I’m calling you out) said write a post using each letter of the alphabet…or something.

Delightful, yes, this will be delightful.

Except for the fact I may lose readers over this, or my writers cred, this should be fun.

Fun, right? Possibly funny?

Go ahead, I won’t blame you if you check out now.

Happy dance, you’re still here.

I don’t know where this is going, thank you.

Just hang in there.

Kidding, I know this will go to Z, zebra, zionist, ZZ Top.

Lovingly, I type out each word for your entertainment.

Merrily, I sing the alphabet song.

Nodding off since its also the tune to Twinkle Twinkle, the song I sing to Mad every night.

Ozzy Osbourne can’t do this!

Praying my laptop doesn’t crash again (apparently the mention of Ozzy sent it into some neurogenic shock!)

Quickly I scramble to finish all this silliness before dinner boils over.

Resolutely I plod on.

Silly, I know! (talk to MommyPants!)

Thankfully we’re almost to the end.

Underwear pulled out of my ass, knuckles cracked, I bow my head to finish.

Virtually unscathed from this exercise, the writer in me begins to question quality.

What should I do? (So close I can smell it, easy since this has stunk from the start!)

Xanadu, this is not.

Yes, you’re right, just finish.

Zipless fuck! A usually spontaneous sexual encounter between strangers with little or no personal information exchanged. The highest plateau of casual sex.

Wait, this isn’t my Tuesday sex post….let me try this again…

Zzzzz,  (apparently I’m not as entertaining as I’d like to think I am.)

Shit, that’s a cheap trick….one more time.

Zoned in, I’m ready to write……

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