Just a little tid bit of what comes when I push through writer’s block.
All creative thought I have? Gone. My brain is like a shrivelled up grape. I mean to say, my brain is like a raisin.
Yes my brain is the food (If you can even call it that) that mother’s feed to their children, when so few of those same mothers actually like them at all. The raisins. I am talking about them not liking the raisins. That could have sounded like the mother’s didn’t like their children… which in fact, could be true. Perhaps the giving of the raisins is some sort of weird torture.
Weird like your crazy Uncle Al, who no one wants to invite to their house as he eats the house plants, waters the dog and grooms the fruit and veggies. But never the cheese. Grooming cheese would be absurd.
Speaking of cheese. Cheese flavoured water would be gross. Well mice might like it. Poor mice could drink it, you know, since they can’t afford the actual hunk of cheese. I really could be onto something here. Cheese flavoured water would be so beneficial to mice. If they revolted and only drank cheese water refusing actual cheese then they wouldn’t be able to get caught. I don’t know about you but I think putting cheese flavoured water on a mouse trap would in fact be a very hard feat to accomplish.
– Tassie (Writing Retreat 2012 student)