The literary masterpiece

D_Gray
D_Gray
Mar 14, 2014, 1:34 PM |
1

 

The literary masterpiece

 

Hans paid McDonalds a visit as a daily routine.

“Two large fries and two Big Mac’s?” the hamburger splatter asked, as he knew Hans very well.

“Today I’ll have something else. Large fries, three Big Mac’s, a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake, I’m due some variety,” Hans said.

After he disposed of the meal in a swift and tasteful way he went home. He felt uncharacteristically energized that evening.

He hoped that this would shine down on his writings, because he was kind of stuck in this piece he was writing and wanted to start all over again. He crawled behind his computer and started writing like his life depended on it. One sentence after the other filled the screen, he didn’t know what hit him. An hour later he had typed five screens full and went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

When he returned he looked at the pages he wrote and was impressed by his own work. This is much better than I usually write and way more speedy, he thought. He didn’t have a clue how come, but was sure that the book would be finished in no time and be nothing less than a masterpiece if he could keep this up. So he wrote on. Two hours later he got himself a beer. Also he had appettite and shoved a pizza in the oven. He drank a few slugs and looked at the counter. He saw he already wrote ten pages. He read it over in a birds view and saw the quality still remained. Finally all that hard work of the last years is coming out, he thought, I truly am where I always wanted to be.

After he ate the pizza he went to work again. He installed himself behind the screen and wrote a sentence, reread it and didn’t like it. He removed it and produced another. No good. Hanging on his chair he was trying to figure out how the story should continue from here on, but no matter how he twisted his brain, the letters wouldn’t roll out. So he jumped on the couch with some cheese and sausages to watch tv. Still he felt asleep with a good feeling and dreamed about the ‘debut of the year’, whilst talking to Jay Leno about his literairy masterpiece.

The next day he still had no inspiration. He wrote just like the day before. Total crap. All day he sat there staring at his screen with unease, removing everything he wrote as he produced it. When shades grew larger he went to McDonalds again.

“The usual?” the fatseller asked.

“Sure.”

The shaky man was just going to get his meal as it hit him. Maybe, just maybe, I got my inspiration from the meal I ate yesterday. It is worth a shot.

“Wait! I’ll have large fries, three Big Mac’s, a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake.”

“Sure,” said the saltfairy and handed them over.

He made it all disappear. I am the foodwhisperer, he smiled to himself.

Just like yesterday he came home and went writing right away. And sure enough, his magic was back. Page after page he wrote for hours until he started to get hungry. He baked some fries and hot dogs and sent them to foodheaven. He reread his pages and saw this day he had written thirty perfect pages. His mojo was stolen again though, not one single good sentence came to his mind again. Hmmm, he pondered, could it be that if I eat something after my McDonalds trip the inspiration is gone? Tomorrow I will put this theory to the test.

The next day he went early to McDonalds and ordered his new favorite meal. He wrote on until he clearly saw the lines were getting worse. He looked at the clock, as he hadn’t eaten anything after and saw it was four hours later. That must be it then! He went back to the little shop of horrors and ordered again. The bellybuilder looked at him funny but of course he gave him what he asked.

When he returned it was writer’s heaven again. He finally saw how it worked. From now on he shopped for literature two or three times a day. He gained quite some weight and felt sick now and then but I will go on a diet afterwards, he fooled himself.

After just four weeks he turned in the manuscript to a number of big publishers. One after the other wanted to have it, because the quality was unheard of. This man is Hesse, Proust, de Balzac and Nietzsche combined! This said the highest bidder so he had two reasons to offer it to him.

The critics just loved it. Even the greatest cynics and hired downwriters didn’t have the heart to say anything bad about this book. It was nothing less than an outright sensation! After three weeks his book topped the list of bestsellers and it stayed there for months, until finally his dream came true. He was invited to the Tonight Show.

Like a duck he wobbled to Jay and sat down with a huff and a puff. After he caught his breath Jay started the conversation.

“The whole literary world is impressed by your high level of competence. I read your book and it’s absolutely fabulous! Where did you get the inspiration to write so deeply and still so vivacious?”

“It was just like magic,” Hans said. “I had a very special menu which seemed to steer my mind into higher regions.”

“I can see that,” Leno said with a big smile. “What sort of menu was it?”

“Well, your probably gonna laugh, but I went to McDonalds each day and got me large fries, three Big Mac’s, a cheeseburger and a chocolate milkshake. I have no clue how it worked but after that I always was inspired for some four hours.”

“You must be rich by now.”

“Ah, I have no complaints,” Hans smiled. “Looks like my future is solid.”

“Well, as it should! You enriched the world so its more than deserving. I wish you all the luck in your further career. When you wrote the next book, will you come back for another talk?”

“Sure thing,” Hans replied and they shook hands after which he got a big round of applause.

The literary world was shocked! From hero to zero, said one newspaper headline. The next retracted their praises and called him a Big Sack. Another paper told the readers that they sent their psychiatrist to the writer to clear a few things up. But, to no prevail. The book kept selling like hamburgers. This is what the reader wanted and no one could stand inbetween him and his audience. A long time it topped the bestseller lists in almost every country. Hans entered Forbes’ list and was already working on his second book. But he enjoyed life in the meantime and thought that haste is a bad thing when your rich. He made a trip around the world and moved to a big villa after that. There he ordered the same meal to be picked up by his private driver.

Then his book finally dwindled off the charts. Most readers already had Hans’s book so it came naturally, he thought. Ah, I’ll just put them away with my next book and so he started to write with more élan.

When the writer of the new masterpiece was interviewed by Jay he told him that he used the same method of Hans and it worked. Apparantly the combination of ingredients enhanced inspiration. And so one widebellied writer after the other came to the Tonight Show and every time they had used the same method. The bestseller lists were full of masterpieces, which was a historic event, as they are so hard to write.

At the beginning of this stream of topliterature the publishers rubbed their hands. They made billions with this revival of literature. But the market was so saturated that when a new masterpiece was written it landed on the ‘nonsellable’ shelf. The average weight of the civilian by this time was over a hundred kilo’s, because writer had become the number one occupation. McDonalds made trillions and became the puppetmasters in some lands already. The next book Hans wrote was a literary masterpiece but it flopped. The bookcases of most people simply couldn’t hold more books.

At that time publishers longed for the days when writers wrote terrible books. That kind of junk would now sell at least.Ten years later however, when McDonalds faded into oblivion like some new Enron, these days were called the Golden Age of Literature. And the level of skill of new writers were as they always have been.