(sing to tune of Walk Like an Egyptian)
All the old screenplays in my room,
They gather dust, reek of gloom and doom,
Each a rotting corpse (oh whey oh)
Write something new, leave those in their tomb.
Macchiato flows by the mile
The waitress stops, speaks but doesn't smile
Gathers up my trash (oh whey oh)
"You leaving soon? Hate your writing style."
Writer types overlook her gripes, say
"Go away-oh, my cafe'-oh
and I like to write fiction."
Clacking on my keys through the day
The waitress comes, says it's time to pay
Showed her my receipts (oh whey oh)
She said "too bad, please leave anyway."
Underneath the chair, dropped a note
Next thing I know, knife against my throat
Forgot to take her meds (oh whey oh)
She went to jail, I proofed what I wrote.
All the cops in the coffee shop say
"Take her away-oh, don't delay-oh,
She's got an affliction."
2 comments:
MaryAn, you're not quite ready to give Weird Al Yankovich a run for his money yet, but this is a solid first effort.
What brought this on?
Hope everything's okay in your world. The lyrics of this twisted tune suggest otherwise.
Writers don't have to be tortured. If it truely is torture, you can always do something else. IF you are strill commited bo being a writer you need to try to get back to the place where writing is magical. One of the coolest things of being a writer is that SOMETIMES you get to touch and experience the magic inside a story.
HUGE fan of the song "Walk Like an Egyptian" by the Bengals. IF I ever sell the first script I ever wrote, a screwball romantic comedy called "Give It Up for Chimpy" I HOPE I can get "Walk Like an Egyptian" on its soundtrack over the opening credits.
- E.C. Henry from Bonney Lake, WA
E.C., just havin' a little fun.
Post a Comment