| Humor Fan Fiction posted February 6, 2014 |
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Letter
A Wife's Plea to Fanstory
by michaelcahill
A Letter To Fanstory
This is Mrs. Mikey. Why a man my husband's age is still called "Mikey", has always been a mystery to me. It could have something to do with him not bothering with the maturation process that most males go through at some point in their lives. I think the ladies will back me up that somewhere around the late thirties is the norm.
I am writing this for your assistance. In August of 2013, he joined your little conclave of writers with my blessing with the understanding that he would finally have someone, other than me, read and comment on his little writing projects. Mind you, I like his little stories and poetry. I do harbor some resentment that he considers a poem a better birthday gift than a dozen roses or a toaster oven. But, I understand the honor of having someone compose a poem for you. By the twenty-fifth birthday poem, however, the novelty does wear off a bit.
The problem is that he now does nothing, but sit at his computer and "Fanstory". I don't know what it means exactly to "Fanstory", but that is the answer he gives me when I inquire as to his activity. He does eat. As long as I provide him with food that can be held with one hand leaving the other free, he will eat. He seems to be able to communicate with "Fanstory" as he speaks to it quite often during the day. It seems to be a real love/hate relationship though. "Yes, I love you. That is exactly what I mean", might be a heartfelt offering one moment. Then, out of the blue, "How can you possibly review my work when you are incapable of writing a grocery list?" This goes on all day. It goes on all night too. It goes on at three in the morning sometimes when he thinks I am asleep.
Those are all things I can live with. He has always been strange anyway. Talking to "Fanstory" or talking to thin air doesn't make much difference in the long run. Lately though his behavior has become much worse. He is insisting that everyone in the household call him the Lion King. When I ask him why. He just says, "Why? Because I am the lion. Don't you pay attention? I am the lion. Woof, woof, woof. The lion!" Even that is mildly amusing. Since we care for the mentally ill, no one finds his behavior all that unusual.
But, the bedroom is where I draw the line. He is taken to chanting during our lovemaking and shouting out the strangest things. He chants, "daDum, daDum, daDum" over and over and over. I have to tell you, It is pretty damn boring to be honest. And then he announces that he is enjambing the hell out of me. Well, I am glad he thinks so. Whatever that is, it is not effective as a maneuver in his arsenal. I will admit though that the alliteration is a pleasant surprise. But, then, he starts talking about assonance. I told him when we were married that he could scratch that off his list.
He claims to be making money at this, but I haven't seen a dime. Apparently, Walmart does not take "Fanstory dollars". I know he needs my debit card all the time. He says he has to "post". The look in his eyes is a bit frightening to be honest. I must admit it is worth ten bucks to see him relax. Frankly, a "member cent pump" sounds a little perverted to me. Just sayin'. A "lucky leprechaun certificate" though, that certainly sounds appropriate. Just the thing for my little Irish boy. I had to load him up with Haldol the other night. A "banner advertisement supreme" has got to be part of a delusion of some sort. That is certainly not something that exists in a sane world.
Please, reason with him. Tell him he has a wife that he should spend time with. Right now you are the be all and end all of his life. He won't leave the house. He won't go to the movies. He won't consider going on vacation unless it is certain that he has access to you. How about one day a week. I know it can't be Saturday. That is star day. I know that because he dances around the house singing about it being star day. How about Friday? That is a sad day anyway. He is always down on Friday. He says nobody has any stars and he has no stars and the world is without stars. Okay then, I will settle for Friday. Please, see what you can do. Well, I have to go. My ten minutes are up. He is standing in front of me and his eyes are rolling back in his head. I think he needs his computer back for something. Thank you.
A Letter To Fanstory
This is Mrs. Mikey. Why a man my husband's age is still called "Mikey", has always been a mystery to me. It could have something to do with him not bothering with the maturation process that most males go through at some point in their lives. I think the ladies will back me up that somewhere around the late thirties is the norm.
I am writing this for your assistance. In August of 2013, he joined your little conclave of writers with my blessing with the understanding that he would finally have someone, other than me, read and comment on his little writing projects. Mind you, I like his little stories and poetry. I do harbor some resentment that he considers a poem a better birthday gift than a dozen roses or a toaster oven. But, I understand the honor of having someone compose a poem for you. By the twenty-fifth birthday poem, however, the novelty does wear off a bit.
The problem is that he now does nothing, but sit at his computer and "Fanstory". I don't know what it means exactly to "Fanstory", but that is the answer he gives me when I inquire as to his activity. He does eat. As long as I provide him with food that can be held with one hand leaving the other free, he will eat. He seems to be able to communicate with "Fanstory" as he speaks to it quite often during the day. It seems to be a real love/hate relationship though. "Yes, I love you. That is exactly what I mean", might be a heartfelt offering one moment. Then, out of the blue, "How can you possibly review my work when you are incapable of writing a grocery list?" This goes on all day. It goes on all night too. It goes on at three in the morning sometimes when he thinks I am asleep.
Those are all things I can live with. He has always been strange anyway. Talking to "Fanstory" or talking to thin air doesn't make much difference in the long run. Lately though his behavior has become much worse. He is insisting that everyone in the household call him the Lion King. When I ask him why. He just says, "Why? Because I am the lion. Don't you pay attention? I am the lion. Woof, woof, woof. The lion!" Even that is mildly amusing. Since we care for the mentally ill, no one finds his behavior all that unusual.
But, the bedroom is where I draw the line. He is taken to chanting during our lovemaking and shouting out the strangest things. He chants, "daDum, daDum, daDum" over and over and over. I have to tell you, It is pretty damn boring to be honest. And then he announces that he is enjambing the hell out of me. Well, I am glad he thinks so. Whatever that is, it is not effective as a maneuver in his arsenal. I will admit though that the alliteration is a pleasant surprise. But, then, he starts talking about assonance. I told him when we were married that he could scratch that off his list.
He claims to be making money at this, but I haven't seen a dime. Apparently, Walmart does not take "Fanstory dollars". I know he needs my debit card all the time. He says he has to "post". The look in his eyes is a bit frightening to be honest. I must admit it is worth ten bucks to see him relax. Frankly, a "member cent pump" sounds a little perverted to me. Just sayin'. A "lucky leprechaun certificate" though, that certainly sounds appropriate. Just the thing for my little Irish boy. I had to load him up with Haldol the other night. A "banner advertisement supreme" has got to be part of a delusion of some sort. That is certainly not something that exists in a sane world.
Please, reason with him. Tell him he has a wife that he should spend time with. Right now you are the be all and end all of his life. He won't leave the house. He won't go to the movies. He won't consider going on vacation unless it is certain that he has access to you. How about one day a week. I know it can't be Saturday. That is star day. I know that because he dances around the house singing about it being star day. How about Friday? That is a sad day anyway. He is always down on Friday. He says nobody has any stars and he has no stars and the world is without stars. Okay then, I will settle for Friday. Please, see what you can do. Well, I have to go. My ten minutes are up. He is standing in front of me and his eyes are rolling back in his head. I think he needs his computer back for something. Thank you.
This is Mrs. Mikey. Why a man my husband's age is still called "Mikey", has always been a mystery to me. It could have something to do with him not bothering with the maturation process that most males go through at some point in their lives. I think the ladies will back me up that somewhere around the late thirties is the norm.
I am writing this for your assistance. In August of 2013, he joined your little conclave of writers with my blessing with the understanding that he would finally have someone, other than me, read and comment on his little writing projects. Mind you, I like his little stories and poetry. I do harbor some resentment that he considers a poem a better birthday gift than a dozen roses or a toaster oven. But, I understand the honor of having someone compose a poem for you. By the twenty-fifth birthday poem, however, the novelty does wear off a bit.
The problem is that he now does nothing, but sit at his computer and "Fanstory". I don't know what it means exactly to "Fanstory", but that is the answer he gives me when I inquire as to his activity. He does eat. As long as I provide him with food that can be held with one hand leaving the other free, he will eat. He seems to be able to communicate with "Fanstory" as he speaks to it quite often during the day. It seems to be a real love/hate relationship though. "Yes, I love you. That is exactly what I mean", might be a heartfelt offering one moment. Then, out of the blue, "How can you possibly review my work when you are incapable of writing a grocery list?" This goes on all day. It goes on all night too. It goes on at three in the morning sometimes when he thinks I am asleep.
Those are all things I can live with. He has always been strange anyway. Talking to "Fanstory" or talking to thin air doesn't make much difference in the long run. Lately though his behavior has become much worse. He is insisting that everyone in the household call him the Lion King. When I ask him why. He just says, "Why? Because I am the lion. Don't you pay attention? I am the lion. Woof, woof, woof. The lion!" Even that is mildly amusing. Since we care for the mentally ill, no one finds his behavior all that unusual.
But, the bedroom is where I draw the line. He is taken to chanting during our lovemaking and shouting out the strangest things. He chants, "daDum, daDum, daDum" over and over and over. I have to tell you, It is pretty damn boring to be honest. And then he announces that he is enjambing the hell out of me. Well, I am glad he thinks so. Whatever that is, it is not effective as a maneuver in his arsenal. I will admit though that the alliteration is a pleasant surprise. But, then, he starts talking about assonance. I told him when we were married that he could scratch that off his list.
He claims to be making money at this, but I haven't seen a dime. Apparently, Walmart does not take "Fanstory dollars". I know he needs my debit card all the time. He says he has to "post". The look in his eyes is a bit frightening to be honest. I must admit it is worth ten bucks to see him relax. Frankly, a "member cent pump" sounds a little perverted to me. Just sayin'. A "lucky leprechaun certificate" though, that certainly sounds appropriate. Just the thing for my little Irish boy. I had to load him up with Haldol the other night. A "banner advertisement supreme" has got to be part of a delusion of some sort. That is certainly not something that exists in a sane world.
Please, reason with him. Tell him he has a wife that he should spend time with. Right now you are the be all and end all of his life. He won't leave the house. He won't go to the movies. He won't consider going on vacation unless it is certain that he has access to you. How about one day a week. I know it can't be Saturday. That is star day. I know that because he dances around the house singing about it being star day. How about Friday? That is a sad day anyway. He is always down on Friday. He says nobody has any stars and he has no stars and the world is without stars. Okay then, I will settle for Friday. Please, see what you can do. Well, I have to go. My ten minutes are up. He is standing in front of me and his eyes are rolling back in his head. I think he needs his computer back for something. Thank you.
 Recognized |
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My wife said she wanted to post something. I told her it was okay as long as I got all of the points and recognition and glory.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. 
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