Fred, my exasperating talking cat, the burr in my craw and the bane of my existence, keeps bugging me, "C'mon get your fingers on that keyboard and blog."
"Certainly not before I have a toke," I answer Fred that way every time he is in the mood for nagging; knowing fully well that not even a toke is enough palliative for a kind of constipation. Even if I were to be lucky, I would still end up only producing air after spending agonizing hours huffing and puffing. Nada.
But this time is different. I had earlier watched the movie, "The Imitation Game."
In fact, I liked the film enough to make me get on my keyboard and warn Fred that any attempt on his part to steal my attention from writing this blog will be considered a capital offense punishable only by a diet of Fartrium (the latest weight loss health rage) morning noon and night for an entire week.
"Be grateful that you will benefit from improving health and a to-die-for waistline while you're being punished," I said while wagging a finger at him like Mrs. Gorge of Orchidland does often.
Alas, not even threats would shut the maddening cat's mouth. I tell you, this one's got spunk.
"What's the big deal with the movie, anyway?" Fred asks while seemingly stifling a yawn of feigned disinterest.
I paused typing, made eye-to-eye contact and said in a totally serious tone while emphasizing each word, "That movie got me writing again. "
I liked the moral issues the movie brought to the table. One of them was about playing God and presiding over who get to avoid a sure attack by Hitler's military and who have to die.
Another was about how society regards so-called deviant behavior like homosexuality or being nerdy, geeky or just different from the rest of the crowd.
"The movie touched me," I excitedly explained to Fred.
Got my juices flowin'.
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