Verruca and The Wildlings — Ep12: Ideas Are Shy
What must be done when there are plenty of ideas but none would come out?
It’s a rainy day. The monsoon has well and truly arrived. The downpour starts in the morning, takes its rest at midday, and starts again late in the afternoon. Pix and Cora are huddled in their own rooms, occasionally delivering cups of tea and coffee to each other — a sisterly ritual that began since the rains arrived.
Pixel has a noodle junction of thoughts in her head. And yet, as she sat down with her drawing materials and sketchbook, nothing came to paper.
“This is strange,” she mumbled.
And indeed it was strange. She usually spends an unhealthy amount of time drawing. Her doodles and characters and objects of fancy and dreams and imaginations were everywhere to be seen. They rarely left her uninspired. She picked up a pen and a cardboard box and attempted writing.
“Maybe I can just list my thoughts…”
She laid down and stared at the spider — her roomate — devouring the fly that flung itself onto death. The cloudburst outside made a pelting rat-tat-tat noise as drops fell on the tin roof above us.
Happenstance.
Choice.
Influence.
Attraction.
Penis.
Why?
Why not?
Confusion.
Desires.
Magic.
Curse.
Cat.
Portals.
Acid.
Fractals.
Dance.
Beauty.
Flowers.
Bees.
Fly.
High.
Munchies.
“What comes before munchies?” she conversed with herself.
“Doobies.”
And with that, she put her pen down, sat up, and rolled a joint.
Cora knocked on her door with the third cup of hot drink for the day. What’s up, Cora greeted.
“What do you do when you have a lot in your head, but none of those things in your head make enough sense?”
“I do nothing. I enjoy that nothingness until it develops into something…eventually. I suppose ideas are shy and sometimes they need more time and more elements to become more rounded before they bloom. What was that other saying…? Ah! You can’t pour from an empty cup. But hey, we don’t have empty cups — here’s some mud tea. You want?”
“Ooh-wee!”
And so they sipped their drinks and smoked a joint and rolled another one after, and watched the rain soak the earth, and did absolutely fucking nothing.
