Peter wakes up to find the Spokesbear sitting on his chest, staring him in the face.
Spokesbear: Time to work.
Peter: Fuck off.
Spokesbear: You’re not sick anymore.
Peter: I feel like someone’s taken a razor blade to the inside of my oesophagus.
Spokesbear: Yes, but you can *stare at a screen without bleeding from the eyes*. That means it’s time to work.
Peter: You’re mean.
Spokesbear: It’s what you pay me for.
Peter: I pay you?
Peter: You’re an anthropomorphised fraction of my own subconscious guilt, why do you get paid?
The Spokesbear punches Peter in the throat with a padded paw.
Spokesbear: That’s why. Next time you ask a stupid question, I’m going after a kneecap.
Peter: I kill you.
The Spokesbear makes a cute face.
Peter: Okay, I don’t kill you.
Spokesbear: I don’t do this for free, dude. Time to work.
Peter: Crazy bear.
Peter: How long are we going to do this?
Spokesbear: We’re done the moment you start writing.
Peter: I hate you.
Spokesbear: Fair enough. Consider it payback for all the times you made me listen to your rants about Avatar.
Current Writing Metrics
Consecutive Days Writing (500+ words): 0
New Short Stories Sent Into the Wild: 9/30
Rejections in 2010: 15/100
Black Candy Word Count (Finish Date: 31st August)