"Why do you say that?" the Muse asked.
"I'm numb, deeply numb." She pinched my arm then, hard. "Ow!"
"If you felt that, you aren't dead. You're just in one of your moods."
I rubbed my arm. "Yes, I'm in a mood. Can't you just let me wallow in it and get lost for a few days? There's no talking sense to me when I'm like this, as you well know."
"I know that you've never got any good reason to be in such a black humor, numbskull. Get over it already."
"It's genetic, it's emotional, it's chemical, it's nature, it's nurture, just leave me the fuck alone for a few days and I'll be back to myself again. Pretend I'm a werewolf and stay away from my slavering jaw, okay?"
"You're one screwed-up Pavlovian dog, you know. Ring a bell and you get too moody for words."
"It's my ulcer, Muse, so leave me to it, okay? I'll be friendly again in three days."
"Three days... I'm not sure if you can pull it off."
"Jesus rose from the dead in three days. I think I can manage to de-funk myself by then."
"Yeah, but He had God on His side. You're a Buddhist. I think you're screwed."
I stood and headed for the kitchen. "In that case, I might as well be screwed and drunk. Head out, Muse. I'll see you in three days."
"You're an idiot, but I love you."
Then she was gone, and I was on my own.