He laid, strew out on the bed with his head resting in one hand, the other holding a pen levered between his upper and lower jaw, basking in the colorful glow emanating from the television screen. The thin, floral covered hotel comforter was bunched around his elbows and a notebook was propped on top of it. Bags of various snack foods were opened around him and a beer was uncapped and on the floor near him, another right behind it.Robby had it all set up.
The Gutterflower tour was going strong and substantial time off was nowhere in sight. However, the Goo Goo Dolls had two days of time off in Indianapolis, Indiana and he intended to spend those two, precious days lounging in his hotel room.
The odd Nick Jr. show he was studying so zombie-like was interrupted for a commercial break and Robby dislodged the pen and looked down at his notebook. The crisp, white page was about three fourths full with his fast chicken scrawl. Some lines were crossed out and some parts of the margins were written in as he pounded out his idea.
It wasn't a song.
Robby usually found it hard to write songs on the road. His mind wasn't clear and he had to be truly inspired to write good lyrics.
It wasn't a diary.
The only diary he could keep interest in writing was the little snippets of information he provided the fans via the website.
It was something very few knew he did and none at all were allowed to see. Even his girlfriend, who he thought loved, had never read the contents of that notebook or the few dozens like it unless it was by dubious means.
It was a story.
He liked to write stories, little descriptive pieces he thought up from time to time. Fictitious pieces about fictitious people in fictitious situations that he had complete control of . . . It was as close to playing God as he could get and he loved it.
He pressed the pen above the light blue lines left untouched on the paper, dragging it at a steady pace. Soon he was flipping the page and notebook over so the spiral was on his right side.
On the TV, the commercials had ended and the show came back on but that didn't stop the movement of Robby's pen.
By the time the ending song was rolling with the credits, Robby had woven the short tale to his satisfaction and his muses had gone on a coffee break. So the short man closed up his notebook, wrapped up the snack foods, and settled on his back at the head of the lumpy hotel bed for a nap.
Opening Page | Directory | Fanfic | Original Writings | Links and Recs | Other Stuff | Updates | Contact Me