12:00am: Reach for your third cup of coffee with shaking hands as you reread last paragraph you wrote. Notice you said the same idea twice and changed from Omni-present point of view to first person point of view and back again. You also notice that you have spelled the characters name at least three different ways.
12:20am: After picking keyboard off floor, you attempt to correct mistakes but hit wrong key and translate entire story into Polish. When you try to translate it back computer locks up. Invent seventeen new curse words in less than fifteen seconds. Pray that Bill Gates gets severe pain all over his body as you find your word has dumped entire nights work.
12:45am: Assure Neighbors no one has been killed and computer just fell off table and bounced out the window. Power up laptop and take a valium.
12:50am: laptop finally boots up and you start trying to rewrite story.
1:45am: Cursor blinks at you like the eye of a demon, mocking you, taunting you as it blinks its coded message that you havent written anything yet. The walls begin to close in and you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Blinking, on and off, on and off, the words wont come and the hum of the laptop seems to sound like a cruel evil laugh at your inability to even type one word. In desperation you search out the letters and type the word crap twenty-five time, each time pounding the keys harder and harder.
2:15am: banging head on desk idea pops into your head and suddenly you know you have the best idea ever for a story. Rise up to type, blood leaves head to quickly causing you to get dizzy and then the Cursor catches your eye and all ideas flee under its mocking glair.
2:30am: No matter where you walk, the Cursor seems to follow you, mock you with its blinking white eye. You turn from it, but the electronic hum seems to call to you, powerless to stop yourself you turn. The cursor has rearranged the twenty-five craps you typed into a giant hand giving you the finger.
Your face begins to turn red as the temperature of your blood begins to rise. Your whole body shakes and you can literally feel your sanity begin to leave your body as you approach the laptop.
2:32am: The electronic hum begins to speak to you in a sarcasm laced voice, chanting, The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy moon over and over till the sound reaches a shrill tone that forces you to your knees, hands over your ears to block the sound. You reach the laptop and with every bit of strength you have left, you hurl it out the window with a shout of primal rage, screaming unintelligible words as you begin to dance the ancient dance of victory.
2:33am: The whole story pops into your head, including the perfect ending. You leap through the window after the laptop shouting in a maniacal voice, The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy moon.