Last night, I started writing this song for you. I know it’s kinda corny, kinda cheesy, but I wanted to express how I feel.
I wrote so many drafts, my pen ran out of ink, and so did my 50 other back up pens.
I filled up cartons and cartons of notebooks, all filled with ideas of what the perfect song to you would sound like.
I wrote so much that I permanently injured my right hand, my writing hand. I had to use my left hand. Unfortunately, I quickly wore out my left hand, too.
I recorded so many drafts of the song as voice memos, my phone ran out of memory.
I practiced singing it so much, my vocal chords blew out, and I was rushed to the emergency room for reconstructive surgery.
I visited so many rhyming dictionary websites so frequently, my IP address so banned as it was assumed I was a bot.
I knew I was CRAZY about you, so I called up the local pysch treatment center and asked them for advice. They sent a unit to my home and took me away. I spent 3 months in the facility and met a lot of great people, lifelong friends. They recognized right away that I didn’t belong there, and they helped me hatch an elaborate escape plan. I will never forget those who helped me: Rufus, Conway, Drumbeat, Larry the Doc, Larry the fake Doc, Larry the Post Doc, Yancy, Jim, Lazarus, Scooby the Jet, Franceso, Poppa Jack, Foresight, Skittles, Merp, Remus, Fluoride Morgan, Regular Morgan, Ernie “The Hands” Feet, Edward Crooze, Franscesca Italiano, Francesca Aldente, Portia de Rossi, Betsy de Vossy, Tinapants Feybossy.
Lucas stopped. What was he writing? These were all made up names… And he was SHOEHORNING THEM into his blog. His rare brain disease called “making up names and then shoehorning them into a blog” must be back. He sighed and called Dr. Tyrone Planks for his advice…
TO BE CONTINUED.