Sid's Muse

Dear Steve,

I am sending you this email to let you know that I have indeed received your emails and texts and phone calls reminding me of my impending deadline. You have been my trusted publisher for years and I assure you that I will have a draft of what I am working on sent to you on time. This predicament I find myself in, however, may affect the length of said draft so if it seems uncharacteristically shorter than usual then it is only in the interest in meeting the deadline. After all, I wouldn’t want you to worry about the relationship I have with my muse.

Always,

Sid

“Muriel!” Sid yelled as he dragged his eyes from the computer monitor, “Are you around?”

“Just got in, sweetie!” Muriel responded as she swung open the front door.

Sid ran down the stairs and took her bags and placed them on the floor.

“Oh my!” she said surprised by the writer’s new found energy. “What has gotten into you?”

“My deadline,” he answered, “I just told Steve I would have a draft sent to him by the deadline which is fast approaching. It’s just a few more days!”

“And?”

“And?! What do you mean ‘and?’” Sid said, his eyes wide and his shoulders slumped. “You’re a muse! I thought you’re here to inspire me!”

“My dear sweet Sid,” she said. Her voice was soft and sweet with just a touch of flirtatious air about it. She wrapped her arms around Sid’s neck and looked him right in the eyes, their noses just an inch apart from each other. “You’re a talented enough writer to get a draft to Steve, surely. I mean I’m not meant to stay with you forever. That’s not what muses do.”

“Haven’t I spoiled you enough already? You use my credit cards, I take you out to dinner and dancing, you practically live here. It’s gotten to the point where half the neighborhood thinks we’re married!”

“Oh, bless!” Muriel smiled a sardonic smile. “But I thought you enjoyed my company, sweetheart.”

“I do,” Sid said melting away and falling back on to the sofa. “I really do but it’s frustrating living with a muse and not having any inspiration, especially when that inspiration pays for the roof over my head.”

“Oh, I know,” Muriel said in a patronizing town as she ruffled his hair. “Poor thing. How about you take me to dinner? It’ll be just the thing you need. You’ll have a clear head, a full stomach, and I’ll get to show off this lovely dress I bought today”

Muriel pulled an elegant dress out of one of the many bags Sid put on the floor just a few moments earlier and draped it in front of her, dancing about Sid. She somehow managed to find a smile somewhere on Sid’s worrisome face.

“Okay, dinner,” Sid answered finally, “And then you have to help me.”

Muriel looked at Sid and sat on his lap, tilting her head to one side and smiling softly as she looked deep into his eyes.

“Ok fine,” Sid answered, “Dinner and dancing. But then—”

“Straight home to write, I know,” Muriel leaned in and kissed Sid on the cheek, “This is why I stay with you. You just get me.” She took her bags upstairs and Sid could hear her humming some nondescript song. The ceiling creaked and Sid knew she was dancing to the tune as she put her new wardrobe away into the closet.

“Steve better get used to these short stories,” Sid thought to himself, “I love Muriel and everything but at this rate I’m never getting that novel done.”