Tags: brain drain, funny stories
There's supposed to be an effective technique in writing called a brain drain and since I had an upcoming blog due, I thought I'd try it. The directions were as follows:
Brain Drain Instructions
1. Find a pen and paper.
2. Write down every thing that comes to mind.
3. When the brain is drained of all pressing thoughts and has kicked into creative mode, begin work on that best selling novel.
I knew I was in trouble right off the bat because I couldn't find a pen. Or paper. How could I do a brain drain with no writing implements? I walked into the pantry, wondering if a pen sat in there under a can of green beans.
Oh, all right, I confess. I really went in there looking for a
"What the heck, a little treat always helps with a brain drain," I said to the dog, who'd just wandered in. Corky Porky Pie cocked his head in agreement and sat, waiting for a pretzel—or ten. I sat down with him and pondered the meaning of brain drain. Was it an existential philosophy?
I didn't know, but the floor felt awfully hard on my
It speared my tonsils. Well, it speared where my tonsils used to hang out, before the tonsillectomy.
"Aaacckkkth," I sputtered, sounding like a cat coughing up a hairball. "Heimlich maneuver, Heimlich maneuver," I squawked to Corky Porky Pie, who paid no attention. I gave a mighty cough; the pretzel dislodged, flew out of my mouth and bounced along the floor, where the dog promptly gobbled it up.
"Big help you are with this brain drain," I said. "And it's disgusting that you ate an already-been-chewed pretzel." Corky blinked and then pointed at my chocolate bar with his nose. I swear that the dog sometimes communicates better than most
"Nope, I am not feeding you any of that; it will make you sick. Besides, you don't deserve any because you're making this brain drain worse, not better."
An hour later, after the pretzels and chocolate were gone and the dog had abandoned me in pursuit of a tiny spider he saw crawling under the table, I found the needed writing implements. Despite losing my sidekick to an arachnid, I proceeded to write in an attempt to empty my
My Brain Drain
I have a humor blog due and have nary a thought with which to write it. I keep hoping that something will pop into my mind if I clear it of all other thoughts.
Hard to drain it of all other thoughts. All my stupid mind wants to do is concentrate on how it doesn’t have any topic for my blog. Yikes!
This brain drain is not working. Maybe what I need to do is go find a donut and eat it. Donuts are brain food, right? Okay, maybe it's fish that is brain food. But, you'd have to have fluff-for-brains to eat fish for a snack.
Ghosts. Ghosts are on my mind, and that’s no help, either. There’s a minor league baseball team named the Casper Ghosts. Cute name, huh? But certainly not something I can write a blog about. If only I had a ghost in my house … now that would make a good story. A ghost who ate fish because he had no brains. Ha ha, get it? Ghosts don’t have brains ‘cuz they’re dead.
Don’t give me that look.
Technically speaking, ghosts do not have brains. Unless they're spirit brains. Yup, 100 proof spirit brains. Okay, so you didn’t get the 100 proof comment either.
I was soooo having fun and now my mind kicked back into the, “YOU don’t have a blog written yet and you certainly can’t use these brain drain ramblings for a blog!”
Shut up, Brain! Take a hike. Let me finish this!
Back in the days when I used to belong to an in-person writer’s group, I got a lot more things written. Only I can’t think of what they were right now, because I’m doing a brain drain exercise. Sheesh. Apparently emptying the mind means you only empty it of unnecessary things like … did I pay the electric bill on Friday? Oh yeah, maybe that’s why I’m writing in the dark today.
Whoever came up with this brain drain idea was obviously brain dead. I’m no closer to a blog article than I was ten minutes ago. But hey, I have to say that at least my mind is clearer. Maybe.
Oh wait; did I remember to take that carton of outdated milk out of the fridge? Hmm, perhaps that explains the roadkill smell wafting through the house.
Well, who cares? At least I'm done with this brain drain. And now that my mind is clear of all unessential bits of information, I realize I'm in trouble ... I can't recall where I hid my emergency chocolate.
------ "The Brain Drain" © C.L. (Cindy) Beck------
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