The Muse Party Blogfest - (Anti) Valentine's Day Edition

Happy Anti-Valentine's Day, Everyone! Join the party over at The Faux Fountain Pen with Sarah Foster and bring your muse. 

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Me: Hi Sarah! How are you? And Jordan? How's it going? Clyde has something he wants to give you guys. He'll be here in a jif. He just had to park down the street a bit, because his fishing boat is hitched to his truck.

Clyde (running up to the door carrying a large box): Howdy folks! Sorry about the last party. I broke one of yer lamps. Completely by accident, I swear.

Me: While table-dancing in a hula skirt if I remember correctly--

Clyde: Well, at least I wasn't holding up the wall the entire time, Violet! And no wonder. Who's gonna ask you to dance when you're wearing yet another Life Is Good t-shirt and jeans? 

Me: Well at least my shirt is pink. The only red you got going is those ketchup stains on your flannel shirt. 

Clyde: I'll have you know this is my best flannel shirt. Here Sarah, (ripping open box and letting loose a million styrofoam peanuts into the room), you're gonna love this. 

Me: The leg lamp from A Christmas Story? I'm speechless, Clyde.

Clyde: It's a collector's item, Delores Downer! And one heck of a lot better than those worthless bricks of candy you brought.

Me: Ghirardelli chocolates with caramel are delicious, you backwater bumpkin. You just can't chew them without losing your dentures.

Clyde: I don't have dentures! 

Me (twitching my nose like Samantha from Bewitched): Actually, you do. Consider them my Valentine's Day gift to you.

Clyde (giving me the finger): And here's mine to you, Doll-face.

Me: Wow! Now that's romantic!

Clyde (grinning and nearly knocking me over with an over enthusiastic elbow in the ribs): Speaking of romance, why don't we make sure everyone's got a drink and play Spin the Bottle, the fun way.

Me: I almost too scared to ask.

Clyde: It's simple, Simone. You spin the bottle and whoever it points too, you switch drinks and take a swig. Anyone spits, they're out. I always top my beer off with a cup of milk just to make thing interesting.

Me: Um, I think I'll pass. That game would spread germs faster than a rabid rhesus monkey with diarrhea.

Clyde: Talking about a pet of yours, Priscilla? 

Me: Ha! With a muse like you, who needs pets?

Clyde: Hey? Wait! (Picks up a handful of styrofoam peanuts and crumbles them). Look! I made confetti! Easter's right around the block. How about the Confetti Egg Game? Where you going? 

Me: Home! I need to start writing letters of apology to our host and the other guests. This is going to be a long night.

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Clyde grew up in Honea Path, SC, back when color TV was a big deal. His mom was first a schoolteacher and later principal of Whitehall Elementary, his father was in the armed services, and his older brother Dillan, or Dill, used to (in his words, not mine) beat the p*** out of him. He's rude, crude, and totally uncalled for, but as a muse, he does a great job at kicking me in the tail when I need it. 

 

Image Courtesy: Håkon Iversen Photog

So how would you describe your muse? Naughty or nice?