YSaC, Vol. 1403: Some of it is just really dumb
2012 December 12
Who wants a job?
Well, not a “job” so much as an unpaid internship.
Well, not so much an “internship.” as…
You know, I have no idea.
seeking ghost writer.
im writing a short story/novel about well…. i dont really want to get into that. i can explain more about it later. this is not a paid position. im sorry im broke.
If you’re lucky, someday your not.an.employer may some day actually allow you to know what it is you’re not getting paid to write.
Thanks for this one, Amber!
Seeking ghost writers of disguise.
Timmy fell in the well again? I don’t really want to get into that either; it’s slimy.
Think Sparky would settle for a ghostcat of the pies? I need a snack.
I don’t think anyone wants to be a ghost writer of this guy’s. Yippee ti nuh uh.
Writer in disguise
That is what I am
Will write your book for pies
Or your email for spam.
Writer in disguise , writing for free pies,
Writer in disguise — with glasses.
Writes epic space opera full of adventure, romance, political intrigue, mystery, and drama.
Oh wait, you wanted a Dora the Explorer fanfic for your kids’ bedtime stories?
I don’t want to get into what the book is about, but rest assured that it’s a deep subject.
You should always pay your ghosts. All that moaning and rattling of chains is just really obnoxious.
Maybe the ghost of Charles Dickens will be willing to assist Sparky?
For your convenience many of us accept Visa, Discover Card, firm oboes, and PalPal.
Ummmm….no you’re not. And even when and if it gets done, you won’t have written it still. But I bet you’ll still be broke.
Looking for somebody to do my job for me. I’m not going to tell you what I do, but you need to be amazing at it. This is an unpaid position.
Hell, I can not write about ghosts all day long, Sparky.
What I can’t do is control whom they choose to haunt….after I don’t get paid.
You know, we ghosts have had it up to here with you cheapskates who think we’ll work for free because, hey, we’re GHOSTS, we don’t have to eat, right? Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy. Ghosts have needs too. Those white sheets have to go to the laundromat all the frigging time.
I’m sorry you are broke too. Maybe all the King’s horses and all the King’s men can put you back together again. Then maybe you won’t need a dead person to help you write your story.
After you finish writing it. Then we’ll both know what it’s about, and whether it’s a short story, novel, sonnet or cook book.
This presupposes Sparky can read well enough to determine the book’s taxonomy.
Karate kid:
“Taxonomy on;
Taxonomy off.”
If we differentiate publications into vertebrate and invertebrate, would that not invite debate over glued v. stapled periodicals; and of course the never-ending arguments about perfect binding?
It could be a piece of legislation.
I hear reading it after it’s passed is very popular right now.
Chapter One,
Flour lived in a busy neighborhood, but he liked it that way. Observing activity was his way of learning about the world. This particular day though, there wasn’t much going on. Flour was getting bored. “Hey, maybe I could go visit Algernon.” he thought, then changed his mind. Algernon was a strange character and lived in a different neighborhood. Algernon lived in the living room, and Flour didn’t really want to get into that.
Flour thought about Cocoa. She was a close-in that lived above him in the cupboard. Maybe she would like to join him in the bowl today. He would have to invite some others to the bowl. Cocoa got in hot water last time she was alone with someone. Marshmallow took her to hang out in a cup. Her parents scalded her and told her she was too young to get drunk. Maybe he would invite the twins. They were a couple of good eggs and always acted cool. He gave everyone a call and they decided to meet in the bowl in 30 minutes.
When they arrived in the bowl, Flour saw that the twins invited Butter. Butter wasn’t the bravest soul Flour had ever met, in fact she was down right yellow, but she had good taste. They all started chatting about near death experiences they all had. Butter tried to change the subject because it was creeping her out. It was too much like that Final Destination movie she had seen last week. Flour ribbed her for being such a sissy when Butter screamed and pointed up. They all looked where she pointed and saw the spinning blades decending upon them. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!
Chapter Two,
Frosting was really feeling tired that day. He really just wanted to lie down and spread out on something soft. He heard about someone new in the neighborhood. Yes, Cake just moved in…
Argh! That was supposed to be “too young to get drunk.”
I think I need a ghost writer. Maybe I can appease the writing gods by putting this bird seed in this cup holder and hit E-mail…
There, all better now. Mmm, are these Chia seeds? I love chia!
Yay!
Ghosts can’t write, because the pen passes right through their ghost hand. Sparky will have to settle for his opus being scribed on a wall in blood.
Ghost would have a problem wearing the headset for that Dragon software Spark’ is not literate enough to use, too . . .
Manuscript excerpt:
OOOOOOOooooOOOOOOOOOoooooOOOOHHHH
*chains rattling*
OOOOOOOOOOoooOOooooOOOOoooooooo full stop.
Damn software I thought I calibrated you to put a period whenever I said.
GHOST WRITERS ON THE RISE
Once upon a time ago, one dark and windy day.
I found a job on craigslist but it did not offer pay.
When all at once a group of old dead writers I did see.
Coming over boot hill, and looking right at me.
Yippy aye oh, yippy aye ay.
Ghost writers on the rise.
Their pens were really smokin’ and their tablets made of steel.
Their prose was old and hackneyed and their plot just made me reel.
A bolt of fear went through me as they glided down the hill.
For I saw the writers coming hard, with looks that just might kill.
Yippy aye oh, yippy aye ay.
Ghost writers on the rise.
As the writers came up to me, I heard one call my name.
One, do not take that craigslist job or you will die of shame.
You’ll have to float forever at our place up on the hill.
Writing just what others have, ’cause you’ll have no more free will.
Yippy aye oh, yippy aye ay.
Ghost writers on the rise.
This is why I am not going to take this job.
Dang it, I had “Ghost Writers In Disguise” almost fully edited–guess this code cowboy has not changed enough wicked ways . . .
Some ghost writers just edit and proofread the author’s rough draft. That’s easy.
Ok Sparky, Where’s my lack of pay?
Ooh, I bet the short story/novel is about the “Tapioca Filled Hot Tub”.
I think I know why this person doesn’t want to get into it now, but later, after the ghost writer arrives.
Mmm, that tapioca pudding would be really good with expired bleu cheese dressing, and then it can be set on fire!
Possibly, except that a hot tub of tapioca is likely to be a non-Newtonian liquid in actual practice–which would prevent any number of common liquid-related activities.
I just got the weirdest visual in my head.
Me too… but I still can’t figure out where the possum came from.
Blind date. That’s the last time I use eHarmony.
And now I finally understand that stupid Elvis Costello song.
Is it all in that pretty little head of yours?
What goes on in that place in the dark?
(Sorry, Lounge. I seem to be stuck on lyrics mode today. Will reboot and try again tomorrow.)
Hey, I’m a ghost writer. How’s this?
“Boo!”
Ralph and Taco, hope your day in the box was lovely. I will have to put One in here so he can clean up. Punchity Punch Punch!
Good Morning, H.P. Lovecraft!