Hello Dear Readers. Sadly, it’s not always good times here at the blog. Sometimes we have to take time out from our fun to try to cheer up America’s most celebrated crybaby creative writer, Edgar Allan Poe.
“It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived it haunted me day and night.”
Well, don’t let this hurt your feelings Edgar, but your brain is freakishly large, so it probably catches a lot ideas, it’s casting a big net as it were. But it doesn’t need to haunt you day and night, why don’t you go over to Nathaniel Hawthorn’s house and play Parcheesi. You had fun last time, didn’t you?
I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire.
Well, great! It sounds like you and Nathaniel had a lot in common then, so what’s the problem?
I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture — a pale blue eye with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold.
Well now listen, Edgar, everybody has their little idiosyncrasies. Look at you with the freakishly large brain. I bet Nat didn’t hold that against you? You’d be happier if you were less judgmental.
I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, thus rid myself of the eye forever . . .
Ha ha Edgar! That’s the spirit! A little joking goes a long way to brightening up one’s mood!
But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded — with what caution — with what foresight — with what dissimulation I went to work.
Ha ha Edgar! Oh I’m so glad you’re finally learning how to be a bit more playful. And what a straight face you’re keeping too!
I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever . . .
Ha ha ha! I think you might have just stumbled upon your hidden comedian, Edgar!
I turn the latch of his door and opened it — oh so gently! and then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head . . .
You mean because of your freakishly large brain? ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha . . . Oh I’m laughing so hard, Edgar, my sides are hurting . . .
It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed.
Ah hahahahaha! Oh that funny melon head of yours! Ha ha ha!
And I did this for seven long nights . . .
Look at you, Edgar! I am so proud of you! I think you are actually cheered up this time. In fact, let’s just cancel that cheering-up appointment for next Tuesday, shall we?
With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once — once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him . . . his eye would trouble me no more.
Okay, well, anyway, I gotta get going. Nice chatting with you.
He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.
Oh. Well, as long as you’re feeling better, that’s the important thing, I guess. But maybe we better keep that cheering-up appointment after all. How does next Tuesday at 2:45 work for you?
Join us next Tuesday at 2:45 Dear Readers, when we will be continuing our ongoing effort to cheer up Edgar Allan Poe.
Until next time . . . I love you