Arthur put on some sweats and almost climbed into bed for a post-game nap. Instead, he went out and looked at his typewriter with the one word “Monday”, which had been trying to get him to write all semester. He pulled the page out and set it aside.
On the fresh sheet he typed, “She was a metaphorical blonde, but she was also much more than most people could see.”
The buzz from the tailgating hadn’t worn off. He didn’t like the first line. It was okay, though, he would fix it later. His fingers pounded the typewrite with reckless abandon. Maltese hopped up on the table and laid down to watch.
Eventually, Maltese decided it wasn’t very exciting and drifted off, flicking his tale whenever Arthur yanked a page out of the carriage.
Arthur had no idea where he was going with the story. Each paragraph seemed to give a clue as to what was next. A thought would become words and they would lead him down the path. He wasn’t writing to impress, he was just writing.
His phone rang from under the cat. Maltese didn’t appreciate it at all and left to find a better spot for slumber. “Hey Wen, what’s up?”
“Did you go to the game?”
“I did, it was awesome, I’m writing, I’ve got to go.”
“Really? Are you coming to Lawrence’s party?”
“Maybe, call me later,” he said and hung up.
Without so much as a pause he started right back up. He could see it all in his beer adled mind and it only needed to be written down. Arthur was like a court reporter. He hoped it would continue to be interesting.
The phone rang again, “Eric, I’m writing, call me later.”
“I know, Wen just…”
Arthur hit end call. His characters had left the restaurant and were getting on a trolley, which was surprising because Arthur had no idea they were in San Francisco until that moment. He decided that they needed heavier clothing and it made him stop. There hadn’t been any discussion about what they were wearing and Arthur started to obsess about hats.
He stopped and stood up. Arthur really wanted the woman to be wearing a bowler. The Woman in the Bowler Hat, struck him as a good title. Why would she be wearing such a hat, it didn’t make sense. He had almost written himself into a corner. Maybe a nice knit hat would be cute?
The man had a baseball hat on. It fit snugly and kept his head warm, but she was there, in his mind, wearing that bowler. It looked really cute on her, but it just didn’t make any sense. Maybe she was an actress? Arthur asked, she wasn’t.
It occurred to him that he was making an assumption. Arthur didn’t know of any women who wore bowler hats, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. His computer would know. In the Google search bar he typed “Women in bowler hats”.
It turns out some women do. He sat back down, put a hat on her head and continued on. It didn’t stop, the words, the story, the images in his mind. It was a rush. Arthur needed to eat, but he didn’t want to stop.
It was starting to get hard to see the paper. When he turned on the light he found Maltese back on the table. Maltese said, “Meow”.
“Are you hungry?”
Maltese jumped to the floor and ran to his bowl.
Arthur made a turkey sandwich. He ate it and watch the cat. Now, he needed a nap.