An idea starts. 

It grows and develops and takes shape, but it's not right. something is off. It's not your usual idea. Something is different this time. it doesn't feel the same as the other ideas. It almost feels like it wasn't your idea to begin with. 

You stop. You put the idea in the back of your mind dragging to down a path you hardly venture, trying to lose it. You go past your homosexual tendencies. Turn left at accidentally walking in on your 80yr old Nan going down on your grandpa's best friend as Grandpa watching in a corner smoking a  Cuban cigar petting a cat, wearing nothing but a smile. You keep going until you find a fresh spot for this idea. After all it's not you idea why should you care about it. You would prefer to think about the feeling of a well lubed cat than this abomination.

Quickly you run back to your own sanity, the facade we project out to the world where we actively attempt to portray the idea that yes, we too are like the people spoken about in a book so old, the original copies were written on the flesh of animals. essentially tattoos written at a time when reading was like having a magic skill, or the ability to reboot a computer when it stuffs up. Sorry I mean power cycle. IT is very important. 

But the idea is there, following you like a black cloud waiting to piss on you if you smile.

Idea sits in your idea never truly forgotten, it's can't be forgotten, it's already latched on to your core and it's influence is growing. it's slow at first, but the rate is constant. It spreads. infecting your other ideas and thoughts, everything you think circles back to just one thing. every time it pops up you drag it away to hide it but a little bit less far each time. A little bit less well hidden. 

This process can take hours, days, weeks or even months. but eventually you will succumb and then you will be free. but until then every day you will fight it. Get tired out from dragging it away. beating it back with anything you can grab. trying with all your might to only think your own thoughts, but failing.

It's too late.

You look back trying to see where it came from what did you do, where did you go wrong. why this time.

Then you remember.

it was an innocent mistake. but you should have known better. 

You scream to the heavens. Cursing Ned's perfectly quaffed hair.

And you ask yourself. 

"Why did I have to fucking talk to DJ?"

------

Happy birthday DJ, hope it's a good one.

I would like to nominate @ned and @traf to participate with an entry to #comedyopenmic.