inspired by Who Was That Masked Man Anyway by Avi
“Hi, I’m looking for the, uh, applications office. Would you be so kind as to point me in the right direction?”
“Murrmurrmurrrmurr murrmurrr murr murrmurr.”
“Oh, thank you.”
“Murrmurrmurr.”
————-
“Oh hi, my name is Lane. . . I’m, uh, here to apply for a Poetic License. Am I in the right place?”
“Murrmurrumurr murr.”
“Oh great! So, here is my paperwork: you can see that I am currently a Professional Student.”
“Murr murrmurrum murr murrurhm?”
“Yes ma’am, I’m a senior at LCU. Oh also, I am an Aspiring Blogger.”
“Murrummurr murr murrmurr?”
“Yes, that’s why I need my license. I once heard a poet say, ‘To be a writer, the only requirement is to write,” but then I found out about the Poetic License. . .”
*awkward silence*
“Murrmur murrmurrmur mur murr?”
“Umm, to write. Well, I want to blog. Blogging is writing, right?”
“Murrmurr.”
“Oh.”
“Murrmurr murr mu mururmmurr?”
“No. . . I’m studying math.”
“Murrmur murr murr murrmurrmrur.”
“No, I’ve already changed my major three times. I will not be changing again.”
“Murr, murrmrur murrmurrr murr mru.”
“No, I don’t have any experience in writing or blogging . . Is that going to be a problem?”
“Murfmurr. Murrurr murr mumumurrr.”
“Umm, well, I’d like a blog to expand my, my life experience by regular articulation.”
“Murrmurr mur murr mur murrrurmr. Murrmurr murrrmmrur murrmu rummmurr?”
“Oh, a Novice Poetic License? Because I’m studying math?”
“Murr.”
“Oh. Well, I am a very whimsical person…”
“Murr murrmurr.”
“. . . I enjoy language. . .”
“Murr.”
“. . . I read a lot. . .”
“Murr.”
“Well, so, when can I get my license?”
“Murumrrurm murr murrmurr.”
“What?! I had no idea there would be a test. . . Will it be hard?”
I have never heard of a poetic license before.
LikeLike
But you’re an english major. How is that possible?
LikeLike
Well I guess I’ve heard the term I just don’t know what it means exactly. Can you explain?
LikeLike
A “poetic license” is the excuse writers use when they exaggerate things. You think, “Hmm, that isn’t quite what happened.” And they answer, “Well, it’s just my poetic license.”
LikeLike
I grant thee poetic license. Use it judiciously but with a healthy dose of Abi panache.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You were born with a poetic license; didn’t I give you that documentation when you moved out of the house?
You’ve been using it ever since you started talking, so I thought you knew…
Mom
LikeLike