I returned to my keyboard and typed:
“Dear Helen, I am so very sorry.”
Announced to Muse:
She came over, read what I had written.
“Yeah. Succinct. Perfection.”
She grasped me by my hand…
“Come sit down with me on the Nasty Couch for a moment.”
“Lance, I am your Muse. And I will love you for all time. And Believe me: I have time. Back in that day when William S. was struggling… I hooked him up. Back When Coleridge had that Albatross about his neck, I hooked him up. Back when Sam Clemens had no pot to piss in, I hooked him up. But you! You! YOU WEAR ME OUT!”
As we were sitting there, me gazing into her eyes, she glaring at mine…
“Boom! Boom! Boom!”
Someone was pounding at my door.
“UPS?” Muse asked.
“No” I said. “Delirium Tremens Man. Right on schedule.”
“Stay put; I’ll handle this,” she said as she thrust her tiny self against the door and screamed, “Fuck Off! This is MY TIME With Lance!”
I could barely hear the faint sound of shuffling footsteps as he skulked away.
Muse sat back down on the couch.
“Now, where were we?”
“Darling, I have no idea, but you seem to be in charge. Please don’t hurt me.”