Kesey took off - and what with the relatives safely back in Ireland Dead Beat thought it was back to normal. He had finished a draft of a novel before Christmas and was waiting on some feedback, and so he got on with rewriting a children's novel he has been working on (or more like working on and off on). Anyway Dead Beat thought he would return to his rewrite and all thoughts of Kesy and his Merry Pranksters disappeared like a sinking psychedelic bus in a western swamp.
But no it was not to be - there I am ensconced in rewriting once again when who wanders in uninvited but Horace. Yes that Horace! Gave up all the gladiatorial work so that he could tramp around the country and ended up finally on my doorstep.
"Shoo!" I shooed.
But Horace is no pushover, pig-headed really. Will not be shooed. Starts berating me infact:
"Dead Beat, You write so seldom, as not to call for parchment four times in
the year, busied in reforming your writings, yet are you angry
with yourself, that indulging in wine and sleep you produce
nothing worthy to be the subject of conversation. What will be
the consequence? But you took refuge here, it seems, at the very
celebration of the Saturnalia, out of sobriety. Dictate therefore
something worthy of your promises; begin."
Then he skulks off - takes up residence in my tool shed.
Too busied in reforming my writings!!
Dictate therefore something worthy of my promises!!
Be gone fool!
Alter Egos - I Am Done Watching This
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