Manufactured Meltdown

Welcome phantom readers to the Cous's Thursday Blog Off. Check out Melanie's exceptional entry here

Moving on then, he was having a problem. Well he was having a number of problems including one with personal pronouns. But for the sake of this exposition we're focusing on his deadline problem. Mostly. See, he has this deal to crosspublish some kind of writing with a friend. And hers, superb, is already rightie tightie in the can. Whereas he, lefty loosey, on the other hand, if that's not redundant, was as yet bereft of any ideas, yet alone a workable one. Extended sentence or no. He chewed his nails as vigorously as he did subconsciously, and more to the nub, to no avail.

Meltdown, meltdown. That was the agreed upon topic. An idea came to his head which proved, as was so often the case, utterly unusable. But panicked, he mentioned it anyway as if the project could somehow be stoked and satisfied with alliterative filler. See, there was a Vice-Presidential debate that night and one of the candidates, you won't say who, was rumored to be in over her head. Get it, over her head. Meltdown? But that would require a comic touch, something he hadn't exhibited since he'd partied like it was 1929. Which maybe it kind of is, but that's beside the point. Unless you're heavily invested. Meltdown? Anyway no reason to alienate no one and who knew how much of his phantom readership was Republican. Oops.

He couldn't think of anything else. And neither can I. The End.