Me and the Muse

MEROË: Hey! Why haven’t you written anything in the last week?
MATTHEW: I was doing the family thing.
MEROË: Oh right—that Gatsby e-mail. Jesus, talk about convoluted.
MATTHEW: Convoluted is my confirmation name.
MEROË: No chit Cherlock. So how did it go?
MATTHEW: Nobody died. And there wasn’t a scene, though it was touch and go twice.
MEROË: Thanks to you?
MATTHEW: Thanks to me.
MEROË: Moron.
MATTHEW: I keep forgetting that you can’t tease people who have no sense of humor about themselves.
MEROË: Honestly forgetting or deliberately forgetting?
MATTHEW: That was the Cleveland brother.
MEROË: And the other brother?
MATTHEW: Cock of the walk.
MEROË: I note the first noun. So what was all that Gatsby crap?
MATTHEW: Well, to extend the analogy, --
MEROË: Spare me, Jeebus.
MATTHEW: -- when Daisy walked in, everybody politely ignored the fact that she was the one who was driving when Myrtle Wilson was run over.
MEROË: Still making no sense.
MATTHEW: I have the analogy all written down and explained, let me check my notes.
MEROË: You know you -- wait a minute –- you DID do some writing over the weekend?
MATTHEW: Just a few notes to explain --
MEROË: You mean you worked out a stupid analogy to The Great Gatsby for five days?
MATTHEW: Well not for the whole five, but –-
MEROË: This is the first I’m hearing of it.
MATTHEW: Damn.
MEROË: And you know what that means.
MATTHEW: Yes, I know what that means.
MEROË: It means whatever you've written is crap. Total crap.
MATTHEW: [sullen silence]
MEROË: So when are you going to start working on the rewrite again?
MATTHEW: Tonight.
MEROË: Damn right you are.

[Beat.]

MEROË: So which one of your brothers is Daisy again?