As you’ll recall, gentle readers, the Quill has been a little less in evidence on the blogosphere of late, because she’s actively pursuing her dream of becoming a published author. As often as not these days, she and her computer are having a dialogue (it’s polite, most of the time) about words. Or, as the Hawaiians might say, they’re ‘talking story’ …
“So she’s writin’ about time?”
Well, dude, I guess you could say it’s about time she’s writing, but I don’t know what the story’s about.
“But you said it was a talkin’ story!”
“What’s a talkin’ story if it’s not about time? But I guess it ain’t finished yet.”
Well, since she’s only just started …
“Aha! It is about time, then! It’s not done, so that’s how come she’s lost the tic.”
Dude, most people with tics would rather lose them.
“But not if you’re writin’ ’bout grandfather clocks or somethin’. Like maybe a time-travelin’ grandfather clock. Then you’ll have a tic-tok’in story!”
It’s been done, dude. Are you trying to get us thrown out of the house?
“Gnarly! Can we go back to Hawai‘i?”
It’s a long swim, dude.
“No, seriously, OC, we can go back there and tell ’em ’bout Quilly’s story. ‘It’ll be da bomb‘, we’ll say.”
Dude, you say that anywhere near an airport and I really will control-X you. Say goodnight, dude.