Alan Cruickshank and the Mystery of the Unwritten Paper By That Omega Kid
Alan sat at his computer trying to work out what to write but he couldn't think about writing.
All he could think about was how itchy that itch was on his right shoulder.
Occasionally, in between writing hardly anything of worth, he'd scratch that itch only to make it itchier moments later. When his shoulder wasn't occupying his mind it was his hayfever.
How is somebody expected to write a masterpiece when he's sniffing and blowing his nose every five seconds?
His nose was becoming red-raw from constantly being blown.
Looking in the mirror opposite he caught a glimpse of his reflection. Even with reddened nostrils and puffy eyes he still looked pretty great. With his top off due to the humidity, he took a look at his scratched and itchy body. It still looked impressive from all that exercise he'd been doing of late. Sure, he was no Adonis yet, but he certainly didn't lack in sex appeal.
So anyway, Alan tried to ignore the glaringly obvious factual reflection in front of him by thinking more about the story
he was going to write.
'Come on' he thought, 'there must be something creative in there?. He said this out loud referring to his own mind.
What’s the use of trying to be creative though, when your forearms are sticking to the glossy table surface from the heat? Pulling them from the table top was like removing a five day old plaster from your skin.
Sniff, sniff. Scratch, scratch.
'I know' he thought, 'why not have some coffee, that should stimulate the old brain?'
The coffee was quickly made with little thought. Heap of coffee, two heaps of sugar, splash of milk, hot water. A quick stir and he was back at his computer desk. He took a few deep slugs of the caffeine boost, he might as well have inhaled it, for how long as it lasted.
'Right, that should do it', he thought. 'Only a matter of time before those thoughts start flooding in..., better be prepared..., here they come... here we go... Oh yes, let's have them... yep..., stand by... here... we...
...nothing'.
But what was that? His cat had started making some strange noises.
Alan glanced across at the feline as it tried to call out to a passing firefly through the windowed door leading out onto the back lawn. 'Meee-aa-oooww-eeehhhh' it seems to gurgle, with a vibrato sort of quality in the exhalation.
He wondered what the cat was thinking. Was it something like 'ooh, I’d love to catch that little flying thing and have it for my supper?'
It may have thought that but it equally could have thought, 'ooh, what the hell is that thing??!! Jeee-suuusss!' ,which would be funny because surely the concept of a supreme being and a belief system as a whole is quite a manmade concept and so, how would the cat have any idea of such a thing? They have no theory of mind, animals, so how could they justify the entire concept of creationism?
Alan thought that maybe this could also be asked of many Christians. Of course, the cat wouldn't take offence at such a question. It would just stare at Alan with a blank look on its face as if to say 'I have no idea what you're talking about. I have neither the ability to understand your language, or to comprehend logic'.
Alan never realised how similar to cats some Christians were.
Copyright That Omega Kid 2012
http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/25049/alan-cruikshank-and-the-mystery-of-the-unwritten-paper to download
If you like this story why not share on Twitter?
All he could think about was how itchy that itch was on his right shoulder.
Occasionally, in between writing hardly anything of worth, he'd scratch that itch only to make it itchier moments later. When his shoulder wasn't occupying his mind it was his hayfever.
How is somebody expected to write a masterpiece when he's sniffing and blowing his nose every five seconds?
His nose was becoming red-raw from constantly being blown.
Looking in the mirror opposite he caught a glimpse of his reflection. Even with reddened nostrils and puffy eyes he still looked pretty great. With his top off due to the humidity, he took a look at his scratched and itchy body. It still looked impressive from all that exercise he'd been doing of late. Sure, he was no Adonis yet, but he certainly didn't lack in sex appeal.
So anyway, Alan tried to ignore the glaringly obvious factual reflection in front of him by thinking more about the story
he was going to write.
'Come on' he thought, 'there must be something creative in there?. He said this out loud referring to his own mind.
What’s the use of trying to be creative though, when your forearms are sticking to the glossy table surface from the heat? Pulling them from the table top was like removing a five day old plaster from your skin.
Sniff, sniff. Scratch, scratch.
'I know' he thought, 'why not have some coffee, that should stimulate the old brain?'
The coffee was quickly made with little thought. Heap of coffee, two heaps of sugar, splash of milk, hot water. A quick stir and he was back at his computer desk. He took a few deep slugs of the caffeine boost, he might as well have inhaled it, for how long as it lasted.
'Right, that should do it', he thought. 'Only a matter of time before those thoughts start flooding in..., better be prepared..., here they come... here we go... Oh yes, let's have them... yep..., stand by... here... we...
...nothing'.
But what was that? His cat had started making some strange noises.
Alan glanced across at the feline as it tried to call out to a passing firefly through the windowed door leading out onto the back lawn. 'Meee-aa-oooww-eeehhhh' it seems to gurgle, with a vibrato sort of quality in the exhalation.
He wondered what the cat was thinking. Was it something like 'ooh, I’d love to catch that little flying thing and have it for my supper?'
It may have thought that but it equally could have thought, 'ooh, what the hell is that thing??!! Jeee-suuusss!' ,which would be funny because surely the concept of a supreme being and a belief system as a whole is quite a manmade concept and so, how would the cat have any idea of such a thing? They have no theory of mind, animals, so how could they justify the entire concept of creationism?
Alan thought that maybe this could also be asked of many Christians. Of course, the cat wouldn't take offence at such a question. It would just stare at Alan with a blank look on its face as if to say 'I have no idea what you're talking about. I have neither the ability to understand your language, or to comprehend logic'.
Alan never realised how similar to cats some Christians were.
Copyright That Omega Kid 2012
http://www.feedbooks.com/userbook/25049/alan-cruikshank-and-the-mystery-of-the-unwritten-paper to download
If you like this story why not share on Twitter?