[MasterONaniFiqh]

"God damned writer's BLOCK!" Mr. McFinney through his cup of cold coffee right straight at the window of the nursing home and it bounced off the glass of the sliding glass door and almost hit him in the pants leg. But he didn't care.

Kenny, his nurse, pudgy and pink under his aqua smocks, rushed to close the blinds and clean up the mess. "Oh, oh, oh my goodness, I am so sorry, Mr. McFinney! I am so sorry!" He closed the blinds. He got a towel off the dresser and starts to clean up the half a cup of coffee on the floor. "I forgot to close the window. I know how it bothers you. I'm so stupid!"

"It ain't you, ya little piglet! It's them! Them!" McFinney pointed a bony finger out at the now blinded window. "The writer's block! THE WRITER'S BLOCK!" He stared, seething at the window. His old eyes fixating tightly underneath his skinny spectacles. His other first was balled tightly.

"S-s-sorry, s-s-sir," said Kenny as he kept his gaze averted and mopped up the mini-mess on the otherwise spotless floor. He knew better to talk too much when Mcfinney went into....the trance.

The Shady Days retirement home was directly across the street from a block of real estate that had been purchased the previous year for a new, tax-funded writer's commune and arts collective. It was commonly known as "The Writer's Block." Things had progressed at a rapid pace on the project and tomorrow would be opening day.

By virtue of fate, Mckinney's room faced out across the side lawn, directly opposite the building. He had seen it grow from first groundbreaking, to eventual swelling of color and vibrant, simple, art-deco infused life.

And soon, it would be full. Full of living, breathing, functioning writers.

Writers like McFinney had always wanted to be. Had tried to be. Had almost started to actually, really be. Until that fateful day in the middle of his 24th year of life when it all just dried up. When it went away. When he was hit by

"The WRITER'S BLOCK! THE WRITER'S BLOCK! THE WRITER'S--ACK!" The old man clutched his chest. "Peaches!" he gritted out through yellowed teeth and doubled back onto his bed.

"Oh no! Code blue!" yelped Kenny, hoisting the whole of his pudgy pink bulk up to smack the intercom help alarm beside the bed. "Breathe, Mr. M! Brea--" he was cut off by a stiff smack to the face and he stumbled back.

McFinney got a hold of himself and struggled back up, just as a couple of other nurses skidded to a halt outside the open door to the room.

"Just...a...just a test run again, suckers. Get back to your bed pan wetters!" he said without turning to the new comers outside. Seeing it was another false alarm, they grumbled annoyance and disappeared whence they'd come.

Kenny was huddled against the sliding glass door, on the verge of bawling. McFinney looked down at him and a slight break in his grim expression broke. He reached down a hand to the young man. "Ah. Get up, kid. That's another one I owe you."

Furtively, Kenny took the hand and got up. Rubbing his cheek he collected the towel he'd been cleaning with and started to head out. "Sorry, Mr. M. I'll remember not to leave the curtain open next time. Sorry that transfer to the other side of the buildling you wanted didn't come in." He was almost the door now. "And thanks for putting the good word in with the boss for me last month." He smiled a red-cheeked smile of commiseration. "It got me that raise. Seven bucks an hour. It's p-prettys sweet. I can go to the Demloition Derby tomorrow now. Say, you wanna come along Mr. M.? You could, you know, get to miss all that stuff you don't wanna be around for across the street tomorrow."

McFinney was almost back in his bed to try and settle in for his afternoon nap as Kenny had blathered on. He had been ignoring him for the most part. He had put his glasses on the side table. Had fluffed his pillow a bit and laid back. Trying to get his senses back after the spell. Trying to not think about that latest attempt at a short story he was still not being able to write today. Trying to figure out how to block out the ruckus that would be ensuring across the street for this big bloody stupid grand opening ceremony, when suddenly, two words that the little nurse had blurted out struck McFinney like a bolt from Jove himself.

His old eyes gleamed a milkly silver gleam and his mouth crooked a slanted grin as he asked, "Tell me, boy, did you say, 'Demolition Derby tomorrow?"