Me: So it’s blog-day Sunday today, and I swear I’m gonna write something. No excuses.
My Brain: Oh yeah? What about the first chapter of Geography- Resources and Development?
Me: Alright. I’ll write a haiku. It won’t take much time.
My Brain: Don’t kid yourself. You’ve never written a haiku before.
Me: That doesn’t mean I can’t. Give me something, Brain.
My Brain: Well… let me see.
Fly buzzin’ ’round mah head
The sun blazin’ down on earth
My mind is blank.
Me: What hogwash is this? It’s not even a haiku. What’re you doing sounding like Migos saying stupid words like ‘mah’? Technically, it’s not even a word. And do you have a problem with the letter ‘g’? Why can’t you just say ‘buzzing’ and ‘blazing’? And you can’t omit ‘the’ before earth just to ensure 7 syllables. Talking of syllables, the last line doesn’t even have 5 syllables.
My Brain: Well, can you do better?
Me: You’re the one that does the thinking, idiot.
My Brain: I have an idea. Why don’t you search WordPress for one of those writing challenges where they give you 5 words and you have to write a story around them?
Me: Good idea. *Browses through writing challenges* Okay, here you go- mug, rain, cat, flower and clouds.
My Brain: Hmm… interesting. Alright, I have it.
Me: It better be good this time.
My Brain: The cat with pink-and-orange streaks-
Me: No cat has pink-and-orange streaks.
My Brain: Pfft. A child painted it. Where’s your imagination?
Me: Fine. Go on, Wrinkles.
My Brain: Hey! I do not-
Me: You do. Now go on.
My Brain: The cat with pink-and-orange streaks lapped up the rainwater that had collected in the mug-
Me: Wait. Now you’re contradicting yourself. You said a child painted the cat.
My Brain: So I did.
Me: So how can a painting of a cat lap up rainwater from a mug?
My Brain: Did I say it was a painting?
Me: Sure you did.
My Brain: No, I said a child painted it.
Me: Aren’t those two the same things?
My Brain: What I meant was, you little klutz, that the child painted his actual, living cat with pink-and-orange streaks.
Me: *Facepalms* What an unpredictable dunce you are. So how does this ridiculous story of yours continue?
My Brain: She spat the water up at the clouds and a flower bloomed in the sky.
Me: Is that it?
My Brain: Yes. End of story. Oh, and thank me later.
Me: Are you sure you’re my brain and not some 3-year-old’s?
My Brain: Sure as there is water in the Pacific Ocean.
Me: And which type of water does the Pacific Ocean have? Just for confirmation, you know.
My Brain: Oh well, freshwater, I guess.
Image Courtesy: Oxford Dictionaries