Blocked

He turned on his computer, anxious to see what the prompt was for today’s poetry contest. As the computer booted up, Guido prepared himself a cup of coffee and cut out a big piece of sponge cake left over from the dinner party he had hosted the night before.

Soon, he was settled down at his desk with everything he needed. Anxiously, he went to WDC and quickly found the contest page. Looking at the prompt, he felt a sudden blueness fall over him. This was not going to be easy. The prompt said “Write a poem about something interesting that actually happened to you.”

Nothing interesting ever happened to Guido.

Time passed and Guido alternated between staring at the screen and repeatedly tidying up his writing area. Two pots of coffee and five-thousand sponge cake calories later, no prose had come forth. His life was just too boring to write about.

He was sitting in a yoga pose, reportedly effective in generating creativity, when the telephone rang. He got up quickly, relieved to have an excuse not to think about not writing. It was Frankie. They needed Guido to do a little job for them if he was free.

Guido gladly took on the work. Maybe a little exercise would help jar his muse.

As he drove across town, he continued to try and think up a subject for his poem. He was still drawing a blank as he pulled up in front of a small house. Checking to make sure he had the right address, he reached over the back of his seat and grabbed a baseball bat.

Ten minutes later, he was out front hosing blood off the bat.

Maybe I can write about that time I almost caught a foul ball at Yankee Stadium, he thought.

Word count 300