I can’t work on the new mystery (you know, _Murder at the Tree-Trimming Contest_ or whatever it’s called) because every time I open a file to write, a scene comes out in which Our Heroines are being vied for by troupes of evil villains playing “Yo’ Mama” to win their virtue. (After all, the author of That Book did have the knight say that the game dates from the time of ancient Rome!) Either it’s the Fatshionistas vs Ancient Roman gladiators (“Yo’ mama is so fat she has to iron her pants on the DRIVEWAY!” as yelled by Zero Mostel out of “A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum” against “Yo’ mama is so nasty she makes Speed Stick slow down and Right Guard turn left” as shouted by the cast of “Hairspray”) or it’s a tough South Side rapper crew (as stereotypical as a Smurfette is blue) vs. the Knights who Until Quite Recently Said “Ni.” Either way, it’s too hideous to recount. I blame it on recent readings of that wicked e-book.
I must banish it by writing the history of the world in Pig Latin, backwards. Just wait until I find the agent who specializes in THAT.