Its one thing to merely ask a chimp to "dance monkey dance!" whilst spinning upon a measly organ grinder, its QUITE another to request a prima ballerina bless your stage with her graceful interpretation of the sugarplum fairy in Tchskowski’s "Nutcracker Suite". Genius does not just come when called upon, my little peon. And it especially doesn’t come when James is standing right behind me, reminding me that this will go straight to the "elite" front page of his prestigious wrldmrine.com “webzine” for the literarily retarded. Wooing me to partake in your little game requires a bit more finesse and/or frantic adoration when monetary figures cannot be reached. Here is a detailed “list” (in the style of you popular young modern humorists) of supplies I will need to fulfill your request for my powerful prose:
1. A working environment must be provided to fit my particular style of periphrastic deflection. A phrenic perplexity such as mine needs time and space to wield its mighty pencil. No cheap hotel with the view of some neon lights will do for me, no sir, only fickle philandering can come of that! What I have in mind is more of a serene Chinese Toist setting with a rock garden and one of those giant marble balls spinning around in a basin of water.
2. I will require fourteen previously chewed number two pencils, for that authentic “writer at work” look. It puts me in the mood.
3. One black Parisian style beret. Again, it sets the atmosphere of greatness.
4. A lot of really good college level books with big words for lengthy reference purposes.
5. And last but not least, a fifth of tequila and some mary-jane for those moments when my mental pickle is fresh out of juice.
So there you have it Spillane. When you have met all my needs, then, AND ONLY THEN, will I grace your pages with my clairvoyant coquetry.
Amber Kiker
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