I took breakfast with Shakespeare the day after the spring carnival, I called him Will and he didn’t seem to mind much. He sprinkled a bit of sugar on his sausage and indicated in an as a matter of fact tone that the sugar brought out the meats natural flavor as long as you didn’t use too much. I asked if a good meal helped him write and he laughed.
“Writing dear boy, is bolstered by appetite alone. Starvation is the key to penning gold, love or adoration, but not sex.”
“What aids in the writing of sex,” I asked, not looking directly at him a blush on my cheeks.
He pushed his plate to the center of the table, licked the sausage fat and sticky sugar from his fingers and sighed as he leaned back in his chair.
“A breast in your mouth and two fingers as close to heaven as you dare….so keep your notebook ready my lad, it’s fleeting and can turn to tragedy in the time it takes the heart to consider beating.”