Imagine a world where it takes 20 minutes to load Microsoft word document.
Welcome to my world...
He felt an internal vice slowly crushing his intestinal tract, sending distress signals to his extremities. Responding would incur a net cost of at least $2000. Consequently his primal rage would be realised in more peaceful ways. Specifically, a non-response appeared to be the only valid option, that or purchasing a boxing bag for the next laptop inspired mental melt down.
NaNoWriMo prodded his back like hooks attached to a large vehicle ready to be dragged in a vaudevillian freak display. It hurt for now, but once he overcame the initial inertia that's when the real pain would kick in.
A jump start was in order. Loren had heard of a secret cure to the condition that afflicted him. It was called work (and definitely dressed in overalls).
There had to be other possibilities. Where to seek inspiration though? Then he remembered what people in the Olympics do when they want a little extra juice in the tank. Remember the expression "this baby runs like Ben Johnson on steroids." Loren immediately began searching through his magic bag (which he'd stolen from Sport Billy). Just when he was about to give up he pricked his finger on a syringe of hypergraphia. He strapped up and got ready for a heavy dose, but as he gazed at the disturbingly large vain protruding from his arm he heard something in the distance, it sounded like hope.
He plodded slowly out into the living area. Barack Obama was just elected President of the United States of America.
A number of soundbites replayed in Loren's mind
"It doesn't matter what happens to me now, I've been to the mountain top." "Let freedom ring", "From coast to coast, from sea to shining sea", "yes, we shall overcome". "YES WE CAN."
Loren dropped the syringe, he didn't need synthetics, if he wanted it badly enough he could self- generate his own compulsive writing disorder. The world just changed, so did he.