“I keep hitting the keyboard, but nothing happens. I am finished. The words are ended. My story has come to an end,” Dirk said. He ran a hand over his head and sighed.
“Dirk, I think I know how to solve your problem,” Jen said. She sat opposite the frustrated writer and began pointing at Dirk’s desk.
Dirk paid no attention. Dirk was a jerk.
“Oh you think writer’s block can just be solved? You think the art faucet can just be turned on and off all willy nilly? Like the process is akin to a monkey in a hat dancing with finger cymbals on a street corner? I assure you this is actual work.” Dirk continued being terrible to his friend.
Jen stood up and pointed, with as great a force as could be managed for simply pointing at something, and reminded Dirk that his problem did have a solution. “Dirk, your keyboard is a piano!”
Dirk looked down. “I’m such an awful human,” he muttered.