A conversation

Blog: Phil, this is embarrassing. Your entries lately are less substantive than Harriet Miers and about as consistent as your jump-shot.

Phil: Yeah, well I’ve been traveling a bit lately without a computer and feel kinda enervated as far as writing.

Blog: Look, I’ve got an image to uphold here and if you’re gonna be the one dressing me I’ll be damned if you’re shopping at JC Penney’s. I’m talking Vera Wang and you’re giving Sketchers...this isn’t gonna work.

Phil: I don’t get it.

Blog: You wouldn’t.

Phil: Man, maybe I should just throw in the towel here.

Blog: I know I didn't hear that.

Phil’s Imagination: Wait! This blog is acting as a conduit, reversing roles and allowing my adoring readers to speak to me this time. What’s that?....Uh huh!....Of course! They’re telling me my words are like the first waft of coffee’s sweet aroma on a dull, grey morning; they’re telling me what’s typed on this page builds mountains, cures diseases, and mobilizes armies; they’re saying utter bedlam threatens should my voice not quell the upsurging masses with words of enlightenment and direction. By God, I must write! I must! If only to save civilization as we now know it….

Blog: Did you say something?

Phil: Nah. Look, I’ll come up with something, alright?

Blog: Hurry up.

Phil: Shut up.

Blog: You shut up.

[Stay tuned for the next installment…]