GuNNhead

The fellow wore a large top hat. The gentleman to his side had a face that was unpeculiar, and adorned with a bold moustache. They were walking and talking in the noonday sun, strolling from work to the local pub for luncheon. The two men walk into the bar, and wave to me; I’m meeting them here.

The cube sat on the table, glowing, staring at me with a flat, sullen exterior. It felt like being trapped in an abyss when it was around. No thoughts could come proper. My friends sat. And it sat. And it sat, and it sat, sat, sat. All day on its cubical buttocks it sat. On chairs it sat, on rugs made of bears it sat, even through my glares it sat. So here I sit, sitting with it, it that sits everywhere that could be sat. Nary could a bleep nor bloop come forthwith. Because of how this cube doth sit, new ideas can neither be thought nor that.

We each order a cheeseburger and fries, what with not really having any idea of what to eat. The moustachioed man thought of eating that before he came in. There is an uncomfortable silence that falls over the table; we came here to discuss how to get rid of this cube, this horrible, heinous hexahedron once and for all. Perhaps I should not have left it in such plain sight, influencing my compatriots. I place it on the chair beside me, under my coat. Soon, they can offer ideas to me, about the cube, and how to rid myself of it. The moustachioed man recommended that I may get some exercise, for perhaps that will force the block to withdraw. Pfeh, running from my problems, I say. The man in the top hat offers that, it could be then, that I should attempt to use things that I enjoy, to overcome the cube’s effects. Hmm, perhaps he hides his own cube within the confines of his foolishly large hat; not understanding the weighty heft of the circumstances, or simply a bad idea, I wonder. Everyone knows that with the cube, the thoughts of things that one may enjoy do not flow, so one cannot utilize them as a conquering power. All I wish is to never bask in the miserable murky glow of the cube again.

Lunch ends. They, as well as many others and I, have before suffered the cube, it is not terribly uncommon, but it is continually cruel. We decided that the only thing one can truly do is nothing, one must simply wait the cube out. Life has a way of working out; if opportunity arises, one should seize it, for it is an unceasing possibility that the cube can become lost in one of life’s many adventures and experiences. This, of course, leaves the former captive free from the hindrance of the writer’s block.

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