Writer's Cock

Uh oh.
This can't be a good sign.
When I sit and I stare at my keyboard, wondering what I could possibly talk about, it generally spells a stink post.
A real bellyflop of writing.
When I was in grade whatever, we were supposed to write some story for Thanksgiving.
Knowing what I now know, I understand that this was grade three (think it was three) busywork.
What an insult to education and humanity in general, by the way.
Busywork.
The word alone makes the spittle froth about my lazy jaw.
Work's bad enough.
No one needs work for the sake of doing work.
This is why I could never work in HR.
I almost applied for an HR job at the hotel.
Pretty weird.
I could have gotten the position, probably.
Moving around within a hotel is easy after you've punched some time.

HR (unlikely) Pros:

1. I would have gotten to wear a suit every day.
2. I would have been paid more.
3. I would never again have to extract brocolli stems or broken glass from a drain.
4. Free recruitement trips to Australia (that was the big one).

HR Cons:

1. I'd have to frequently smile illegitimate smiles.
2. I'd no longer be able to look myself in the eye.
3. I wouldn't have been able to steal food so readily.
4. I'd be working in HR.

I'm here now, so none of this matters.
Anyway, it was grade three busywork, likely organized solely because my teacher at the time had found lined sheets of paper shaped like a turkey.
I wrote some...thing that spanned 20-something of those turkey sheets.
I think mom still has the original manuscript.
Because my mom is the relic keeper.
That was then.
Full of promise. Wonder.
Words, apparently.
Now here I am.
Old. Broken down.
Hairy.
Even back then I had such a desire to write, with no limitations due to all of these silly adult fears.
Now, I worry about being able to fill the turkey sheets, and I hate that.
I once wrote in one of my ass-pocket books:
I never thought, "this isn't good enough" about something I wrote until I started doing comedy. 

edit: When the title popped into my head, I thought, "Oh, this post was worth it after all."
Took me a second to remember that roosters have sex with chickens, not turkeys.
I'm going to keep it up there anyway, okay?
Because it was inches from being really clever, instead of what it is now:
Nonsensical.