A Monday, a writer and a snake

What is Shame? by Ruby Elliot (Rubyetc)

Alice Cooper talking about having snakes on stage:

"I’ve used a snake on stage so many times. We were playing in Los Angeles and all of the Sex Pistols are there and all of the guys in Kiss and all of our friends are there in the audience and I have this snake on stage. It’s a very dramatic moment on stage but everyone’s laughing. And I’m going: ‘They’re not supposed to be laughing at this point’. And all of a sudden I realise, this snake had defecated. It’s never happened before, but when they defecate, they, well it was all down the side of my clothes. There was about eight piles on the stage and it was the worst smelling thing you’ve ever smelled in your life. Now, of course, the Sex Pistols went: ‘Yeeeees!’ You know, like it was the greatest thing they’ve ever seen in their lives: ‘How does he do that?!’ And so, now the worst thing about this is that it was a carnival kind of show where all of my roadies were dressed like these really awful clowns. So they came out to clean it up and when they’re cleaning it up it’s making them gag and they start throwing up. So now I’ve got piles of anaconda poo and I’ve got clowns throwing up on top of it and I’m going: ‘I’m even disgusted with myself!’ And believe me, everybody in the audience said: ‘This is the greatest show Alice has ever done…’"

The writer sat down to write something.
That’s what she set out to do.
Write something.
Anything.
But nothing came.
She turned the television on and watched an episode of her favourite comedy show.
She laughed.
A thought sparked in her mind.
She turned the television off and went back to her pen and paper.
The spark died.

She stood up and wandered around her house.
She looked at pictures on the walls of people she loved and people who had died.
A thought sparked in her mind.
She smiled at an image of her deceased auntie and went back to her pen and paper.
The spark died.

She picked her nose.
She found a lump that seemed too big to fit up her nose.
She poked it.
She prodded it.
She grabbed hold of it and yanked it out.
It appeared to be a part of her brain.
A thought sparked in her mind.
She passed out on her pen and paper.
The writer died.

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Welcome to Newsletter #26

A tale I read

A tale I heard

A tale I saw

A tale I wrote

A tail I like