The shoe drops, the foot fell, the paper ripped, the game ended, the deer leapt into the trees and vanished, its white tail bobbing once, twice and then poof gone into the dark interior of the wood. Its over, my muse wrote, it ended up painfully but not badly if that can make any sense while the world spins out of control around her. My muse is in pain and I cannot aid her, cannot run to her side and make her better. My friend hurts and there's not a damned thing I can do about it. A difficult and distressing situation for someone like me who likes to be able to fix damn near anything, physical, emotional or intellectual. Of course, I reserve the right to have an electrician come in and deal with that sort of stuff because I learned as a wee lad that electricity and I aren't the most compatible pair. Nearly electrocuted myself and ended up merely fusing the tip of a screwdriver into what must have passed for a tool's death pose back then. Twisted and charred metal, just from a massive surge of electricity coursing through the tip.

When I think about the danger we sheathe ourselves in everyday, the power lines with easily enough voltage to deep fry a man inside his own fat (and yes, that is a most disgusting image to conjure, thanks!). Two ton rolling death machines with enormous powerplants and teenagers at the wheel. Hell, crossing the street's a life or death decision some days.

But back to my friend, my muse. She and her paramour have had to call it quits after his conscience made up his mind for him. Sadly, he chose loyalty to his loser wife rather than running away with this delectable and delicious muse of mine. I know because, like the song goes, she used to be mine. Now she's my friend and a very, very good one at that. I'm sure that what few readers do get to this will gasp at the thought of taking the side of a mistress in this instance but that's solely because you don't know the extent of a waste of space his wife is. Bitchy, useless and mildly hot in good light. And mother to children being raised in her image rather than his. Yes, even with the kids involved I would have gone off with the mistress. She's everything the wife is not, could not be.

I'm sad for her, my muse. Sad that she is in pain and there's not a damned thing I can do about it.