Just then, the phone rang. It was a friend, wanting to talk about a book he’d read. I waited impatiently while he rambled on. Just then, I had another idea for my blog. It just came to me, all of a sudden.
However, I had to get rid of my friend. It was rude. However, when I had an idea for something I wanted to write, it’s all I cared about. I tried to hurry my friend on. However, he wasn’t going to be rushed. Just then, the doorbell rang. I told my friend I had to go and rushed down the hall. Suddenly, my cat jumped out and tripped me.
However, I saved myself at the last minute. I peeked through the peephole and my blood ran cold. It was the police. Or at least I thought it was. Their uniforms were a ghastly pink, like brain matter. I felt shivers all over. Suddenly, they started to knock on the door. Just then, another idea came to me for my blog. However, I couldn’t keep the police waiting. With a lump in my throat, I opened the door.
The police peered ominously at me. I felt like a drowning man. The mood was ominous.
‘Hello, sir,’ one of them announced suddenly. He was tall, blond, and had blue eyes.
Just then, the other one thrust out their hand for a handshake. I flinched. However, I recovered and shook their hand. The hairs on my neck stood up. This was ominous. Suddenly, they smiled. Just then, my apprehension broke suddenly into a million pieces.
Suddenly, I actually started to breathe easier. Just then, I was somewhat relieved. However, I basically have a fear of authority. It’s quite debilitating. And practically makes me useless in these situations. I’m totally out of my depth. Absolutely. However, I do the best the can.
‘Can I help you?’ I queried. ‘Are you the police?’
‘We are the Writing Police,’ the one who shook my hand declaimed. Did I mention she was a policewoman? She was a woman. ‘Are you aware of the issues in your writing?’
Issues? I thought. What issues? I jolted awake this morning all of a sudden like somebody had walked over my grave. However, I didn’t think my day would turn out so ominous. All I ever wanted to do was write. Just then, the memory of my parents giving me my first notebook came to mind. That’s when I fell in love with writing. That’s all I did in primary school. In high school, I was a geek who loved to read and write, enduring the scorn of the cool kids—
‘We don’t need your exposition,’ the tall blond cop flouted suddenly.
‘However, you should be wrapping this up,’ the policewoman said ominously just then.
‘This?’ I extemporised.
The tall blond cop bristled. ‘The suddenlys, the just thens, the howevers, the clichés, the overuse of ominously as a favourite word, the tenses, the ridiculous attributors, the clichés, the useless modifiers like “quite” and “somewhat” and “practically” and all that, forgetting to introduce details, the overlong digression into a backstory, the … the … the …’
‘The … the … ’ the policewoman refashioned.
‘The … the …’ the tall blond cop denounced.
‘The luxuriance,’ the policewoman finished. ‘Just put a stop to it. Okay?’
They nodded, smiled and left.
I closed the door and got back to my blog.