A Pickling

stockvault-backyard-chicken157184Liken me to a chicken on a chain, if you will.

A tempest in a leaky teacup.

A Mad Hatter sans chapeau.

Or just picture me as an author jarred and pickled in a house of typewriters and you’ll have me.

*sighs, oh-so pitifully*

A writer without the opportunity to write can be quite a grotesque thing, wouldn’t you agree?

Until tomorrow…


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