In an effort to get back into the swing of writing last night, I cautioned Genius that I did not want any more interruptions. "I can't get anything done when you pop in and distract me."
"Oh, I'm not going to be here that much longer. Enjoy me while you can."
"I'll enjoy you on MY schedule. I'm trying to get some submissions together. You'll sign a release, right?" Of course, I'm hoping that because he's under 18, his parent, which would be ME, could sign the release.
"Well, I don't know. It depends on what it's about. When I'm famous, I can't have my image tarnished by an unflattering story."
"I'm thinking of the rocket story. You said I was not allowed to tell that one to my students."
"I'd sign for the rocket story. What's in it for me?"
"I told you I'd give you ten percent of anything I make. So if I'm paid with a copy of the book, you can tear out 10 pages for every 100 pages in the book. Of course, first I have to get rid of you so I can write the story, then I have to submit it, then it has to be accepted, then it has to be published...I may be dead before all that happens."
"Great! Then I'd get it ALL!"
It's slow going. He's been in my office twice in the last ten minutes. First to raid The Pony's desk, which was originally my desk, for those black clippy things that hold a thick sheaf of papers together. I caught him sneaking out a brand new pack of oversize, colored paper clips. "Oh, these? They'll work, too."
"But they're mine."
"Oh, c'mon. They're not even open! You don't need them."
"Here's a mini version of those black clips. How about these chip clips?"
"They're perfect. Here. Take your paper clips. Don't you have any more of those black ones?"
"No. But Walmart sells them. Maybe you should go to town for some."
"That won't be necessary."
"That would have kept you away for a while. Now go. Don't come back down."
"Not even to bring the clips back?"
"NO!. Stay out."
He brought back the clips. They were for his newest project, photographing assorted fruits dropped into an aquarium of water. More on that project later. I can't really concentrate now.
It's like perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. From a millipede.
4 comments:
A shoe dropping from a millipede: I like that.
Tell him that the two of you could do a book signing at an independent book store, or a craft fair--IF you get a Chicken Soup story published and IF he leaves you alone. (Do NOT tell him you'll get paid $200 for the story. Kids get greedy and get their grubby hands on anything green.)
Maybe you should move that in-house workshop out to the BARn or another out building. That way you would have solitude and if later on he blows something up it wouldn't be in the house!
Stephen,
I like that better than the actual millipede. Two of them have made their way into my basement over the years. They raise the back-of-my-neck hairs.
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Sioux,
Um...thanks for filling him in that it's possible to earn actual MONEY! He reads the comments. Because he says they're better than the blog. Unless, of course, the post is about HIM.
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knancy,
I originally decreed that the broken lightbulb project would be relegated to the BARn. My command fell upon teenage ears. Hick will not back me up, because he doesn't really want his BARn full of lightbulb shards. I will say that Genius cleaned up the workshop thoroughly. Of his lightbulb mess. The rest is still in Hick shape.
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