Bad Writing

–for Michael Martone

He didn't believe it was possible. But bad writing was very bad. It had slept through workshop and drooled during discussions of craft. Now it was lumbering in the middle of the Vermont College Green without moving aside for the Frisbees and the cats and the dogs chasing the cats. Soon it was planning on spreading, turning gelatinous like the blob just so Steve McQueen could show up in front of the Stone Science building with a hose and the police and the teenagers–everyone versus bad writing. The whole well meaning community will pour bullets and fire and dry ice over bad writing's whole, stinky body. And bad writing will laugh and ha because nothing, no nothing, will ever stop it.