‘One hundred words to go, that’s all, bobblehead! One hundred little words to write until I meet my target and I can rest easy. And it’s only 4 a.m.! I’ve done well, haven’t I?’
The writer’s bobblehead mascot nods frantically in agreement as she taps out a manic rhythm on the desk with her fingers.
‘It would be way later… earlier? Later? Well, it would be like 6 a.m. right now if I’d have given in to watching Jurassic Park III at midnight. I mean, I’d probably be done by now if I hadn’t have watched Jurassic Park and The Lost World back-to-back at 8 p.m., but you live and learn, right? You live and learn.’
‘Oh, shut up, will you?’
The writer freezes.
The bobblehead sighs. ‘If you spent less time gibbering on at me – an inanimate sodding object – and more time actually writing, you’d have no problem meeting these self-imposed word targets.’
‘Am I… are you… Am I losing my mind, bobblehead?’
‘I don’t know about that, but what I do know is that you haven’t slept in 48 hours. I think you ought to go to bed.’
‘But I haven’t met my target. I’ve got to write 100 more words.’
‘Forget it. It’s futile. The 2900 words you’ve already written are useless, anyway.’
‘Really? I know it’s a first draft, but it can’t be that bad.’
‘Oh, it is. Look at your screen.’
The writer does so. The document before her reads as follows:
Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead. Bobblehead…
‘Christ. I really am losing it, aren’t I? Is this real life? Are you real life? Am I real life?’
‘Stop spiralling and get to bed!’
‘I will. I’m going now. I’m gone.’
Author’s note: This is definitely not an accurate representation of my life.
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The spectre of the self-imposed target: wrestling with him now!
Brilliant! XD
I remember writing college assignments like this in an extremely sleepy state! 😛
This is brilliant!
Excellent! I like it.
I have a bobblehead of Gaylord Perry that I received at a San Francisco Giants game. It doesn’t speak, but it has been known to peer at me intently, and I suspect its eyes follow me around like one of those portrait paintings in a haunted castle. Perry was a Giants pitcher from the ’60s who was notorious for doctoring baseballs.