e had been awake for days, furiously scribbling a pastiche of one of
"You know, animism is no longer in fashion," I said to him from my spot in
the corner. "Nobody will want to read it, I'm afraid, and you'll be a
"But Gogol did it, Kafka did it, Hoffman did it--why can't I?"
"Precisely because it has been done so many times. In the literature of the
future, lamps must remain lamps, bookshelves must remain bookshelves, and
noses, well, noses must remain on the face. You must understand that an author
breathing life into inanimate objects is a common sight these days, such
that the true revolutionaries of tomorrow will be those who keep them in
After mulling this over, he slapped down his pen, marring the desk's
surface, and crumpled up the draft he had been working on.
"It is impossible to argue with such logic," he conceded. Then, with gritty
resolve, he reached down and unplugged himself, leaving me alone and
laughing in the dark.
A native of Edmonton, Alberta, A.D. MacDonald spends his free time
selflessly promoting Alberta beef, following the wisdom of the Almighty
Turnip, and writing. His fiction and poetry have appeared sporadically on the
internet and in print, so if you try hard enough you might find them. Or
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