Swami Laura and the Tan Hand Band

Now that Erin had a better teacup pattern, with eyes and a face for one thing, it was time to really fix her teacup situation.  Or try.  Both she and Laura knew it.  But still, it was hard to know where to go from here.  The two women just looked at each other.

"Okay.  I'll take your kids over to your mom's place, Erin.  You can't take care of them in this state. It's too much to ask of a teacup.  And you...   you...  gather up those papers on the floor.  Put them back in order and when I get back we'll figure out what needs to be done."   

It might have made more sense to reprint the entire 300 page document but it did give her something to do so Erin started to organize the pages.  1... 234... 37...  5...  95...

"Well, well.  Aren't you looking the worse for wear."

It was a baritone voice.  Oh great, now I'm hearing things, thought Erin.  She ignored it and bent forward to pick up another stack of papers.  54... 55...  3...  27... 28... 29...  264... 

"Don't insult her, Randolph.  She's doing the best she can.  It just takes time."  Again it was a baritone voice from behind her. 

As if I need another thing to deal with.  Erin straightened up.

"Well, if she didn't write me like some stiff cliche.  I mean...  the evil twin... give me a freakin' break."

"What, Randolph, you don't like sharing a face with me?"

"Actually, Raymond, I consider your blue black, shoulder length hair stunning, darling.  Just stunning."  And with that Erin could wait no longer and turned around.

There they were. Two men.  Two men without shirts on.  Two identical men.  In her bedroom. Handsome. Without shirts on.  She fell on her ass and stared up idiotically from her teacup cat eyes.  Two men without shirts on should not be in her bedroom.

"Yep, the maker is an idiot."  Said the one on the right.

The one on her left came  over and helped her back onto her feet.  "It's okay, Erin, you are going to figure this all out.  It's not that you can't, honey. It's not.  You will work hard and it will come with time.  Don't give it up.  This is what you want, so make it happen!"

"Always such a damn optimist. Don't lie to her, Raymond. Most people don't ever make it in publishing.  Heck, most of them don't even finish a book."

"Don't listen to him, Erin.  You've learned so much already.  Your writing... well the style is starting to come together, still it might need some work, but it's coming.  And you've fixed a lot of things.  Those tricky little author intruding words that distance the reader.   The talking heads thing.  How about your tendency to overuse suddenly, quickly and instantly?  Right?  It's progress.  Progress."


"Yeah, but who really cares about any of it, Erin?  Who really cares..." Randolph looked at her with disdain.

"Hiyaaaah!"  Erin fell back down again. "Shut Up!"  It was Laura.  She'd returned and she'd smacked Randolph across the face.

Erin put her hand on the rim of her cup and rubbed it like she had a headache.  "Honestly, Laura, this is all too much for one teacup to handle."

"Excellent, girlfirend!"

"What?" Erin asked.

"Well for one thing you are talking now!  It's a sign maybe you are starting to find your writer's voice after all.  Look, I brought you a present. Read it and we'll talk."  She plopped Finding Your Writer's Voice down in Erin's lap. 

"Okay...  I know you've been after me to read this all year."  Erin nodded at the book, knowing she was going to have to do it. 

"And as for you two, well Raymond, you can stay, but Randolph, put a muzzle on it or I'm kicking you right out the window!" 

"You know them?"  Erin asked.

"Well, sure, Erin. They're in my band.  Let's show her guys."  And Laura started to sing in her disney princess voice as Raymond played guitar and Randolph beat the drums.  "We're Swami Laura and the Tan Hand Band.  Haven't you been wondering what I've been up to on Friday and Saturday nights?  We're playing the club circuit!"

Well, that made sense.  After all, the two men did have awfully tan hands...