/lit/ - Literature

>>14032925
The Dud Avacado

"I think I should finally write a short story today." said the first man, "I've spent so much time thinking about it that today will finally be the day that I shut myself up and do what I ought to be doing. I read all day long but have never written a page"
"I think I shall steal it," said the second, "I will write what you have planned to write but only better. The structure will be more robust, the words better chosen and my prose more eloquent, the descriptions will be lovely and exact, the ending will bite and bewilder more than yours. I will never bore people like you will, should you decide to write today, my writing will always impress me and never need revision. It will be published in a higher quality magazine than yours could; it will receive its own page near the front and I will be celebrated before you ever will. I think I shall take all of your stories for myself and leave you with nothing."

"You are very cruel," said the first man, "and although I've only known you for such a short time, I don't know why it is you say these things to me. Even if you truly intend to take my work and are not merely trying to hurt me, I will simply shut myself up in my room, lock them away, and never speak of it to anyone. How could you take them then?"

"Despite what you say, you let your work be known to everyone." said the second man, "You speak of nothing but your writing. It's been terrible to listen to all of this time: you about the work you've never done. You tell everyone what you ought to write and how you would go about it, it's despicable. You need not worry any longer, for I have already written them," and pulled out from within his coat a small volume of short stories, fully coated in the words he had wanted to compose in their right order. Knowing his abilities, for he was the kind of person to take the time to reflect on what he could reasonably do, the first man recognized that his prose was undoubtedly superior to his own. Purchasing the book he did not write, the first man went home and decided to read the volume he never could have written, its length increasing the further he pursued.