Shhh! Scribbler at Work

It's just NOT Cricket

[prompt: 'music' 28/12/2018]

'I don't hate cricket.

I love it.'

That's how a popular song Downunder goes, and countless besotted fans belt the words out with little regard to the musicality of the piece.

In identical fashion, with no care for the bleeding eyes and brains of a mass of writers or their rhythmic, lyrical wordage, a famous writing platform once ejected hopes and dreams without even a thoughtful warning like - 'it's a jungle out there'.

Multitudes knew naught of these trying [nay, terrifying] times of yore, so with a great sigh, Christine bade all to make themselves comfortable. "We could be in for a long session," she said, [ muttering under her breath, Me? Be long-winded? NEVER! Well-ll, hardly ever. Well-ll... maybe sometimes.] And then she began.

Once upon a very long time ago, the mighty master of wordy matters in the stratosphere or wikisphere or similar - WO [as he was known for short, but not for nearly as long as writerly folk had anticipated] closed his doors, and his second cousin, thrice removed, WATTSHISFACE flung open his arms, shouting loudly -

'Send me your poor, shell-shocked souls and I promise to enfold them in the mighty and massive folds of my MAGIC cape!'

Unfortunately for these refugees and revolting ruffians, the new BIG W omitted to mention his dastardly plot to lose them in those mighty magical folds. Initially crushed by the millions of other hopefuls, the refugees persisted in trying to be heard. A word from the past reappeared - the wondrous PROMPT word - and it taxed imaginations of those courageous souls who chose to run the gauntlet. Passionately, week after week, they produced their 500 word pearls of creativity.

The great WATTSHISFACE seemed unamused by their shenanigans and stuff. First it took hours and hours for a new masterpiece to appear on the all-important @weekendwritein@[new word each week] list. Then it was days. Then, sometimes the full week, even two! [They're not called missives for nothing]

Voices chimed out in protest and pain - once again ignored. But the rumble had begun. A tenuous thread was created on the new WATTSHISFACE Community page. And LO! Out of the chaos and mayhem , a white knight galloped to the front of this small army, wielding a pen [remember that MIGHTIER THAN A SWORD one?]. Valiantly he charged around the sacred sites, revealing links to each new story - EACH and EVERY week! He magnanimously never mentioned his own [mainly because rules at the top of the page ban this]. His latest lists revealed ALL the names of the hopefuls in ONE single comment - even proving the necessary enticement to some newbies. Owzat??

And because of these valiant efforts and fabulous ferreting skills, the Master Prompter bestowed upon our hero the auspicious title of -

TWoogle!!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As Christine collapsed in an exhausted heap, she was heard to mutter,

"SHEESH! That was exhausting. Anyone still left awake??"