I need your help. I find myself in a terrible situation where I have no means of escape or survival unless I do something I really, really don't want to do. All too often I find myself consumed with something I shouldn't be, and all too often I indulge myself, making more work for me to complete for a possibly nonexistent person or people.
It's plagued me for nearly a week, but my thoughts turn constantly to this thing. I find a phrase encroaching upon my mind all the time, sometimes a whisper, sometimes a shout. But it's always there, sneaking into my speech, tormenting me when I'm trying to sleep.
I can't stop myself. Someone is going to need to stop me.
You must stop me.
YOU MUST STOP ME!
Please stop me from writing Butt Montana, Esquire.
It started out as a joke about Butte, MT, but I was high, and thoughts turned to Beavis and Butt-Head. The next thing I know my mind is screaming at me: BUTT MONTANA, ESQUIRE! YOU MUST WRITE IT!
My plate is full enough as it is. I have no idea how I'm going to fit writing Butt Montana, Esquire (or shout I go with Esq.?), into my schedule. I can think of maybe five people who might want to read something like that, but am I really going to go out of my way to write a short book, probably Kindle-only, and release it for such a small audience?
Yeah. Yeah, I would. And I probably will. Unless you send help immediately.
Operators are standing by . . . in another reality where I have gobs of money to pay them. You know how to get ahold of me. You can stop me. You must stop me.
Because when I get like this, the idea usually takes over my entire existence eventually unless I write it as quickly as possible. Do you really want me to ditch out on all my other projects and dedicate myself full time to Butt Montana, Esquire?
He didn't start out as a lawyer. It was originally Butt Montana, MD. But (heh) then I thought maybe he was Butt Montana, Private Eye. Father Butt Montana, Exorcist to the Stars? Captain Butt Montana of the Sex Boat?
See what I mean? I've already put waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much thought into this. There's no way I'm not writing Butt Montana, Esquire, right? Unless you can stop me.
Only you can stop me. Please. Before it's too late.
I've already started thinking he might be a series character. Fuck's sake, please don't let me go down this rabbit hole. He's had full fucking adventures in my head already.
Don't let me write it. Don't let me write BUTT MONTANA, ESQUIRE!
Just so we're on the same page, yes, I have started some light research. In that research I discovered that people who live in Butte, MT, are called "Butte Rats." Unless you live out there, there's no way you knew that. Why would you? But knowing that enriches your life. It's certainly enriched mine.
Have you heard Butt Montana, Esquire, whispering to you yet? Not to worry, you will.
No comments:
Post a Comment