Ya ever just stop and really think about how Eddie’s a writer. Like…
Eddie sitting in front of his laptop, a half-empty, half-freezing cup of coffee and a bowl of milk and cereal dregs from three hours ago on either side of him, staring at the blank document and feeling his soul slowly leech out of his eyes.
Eddie trying to remember a certain word, struggling for a solid half an hour with it on the tip of his brain before giving up and taking a break. Then having it come to him out of nowhere hours later and tripping out of the shower, shampoo in his ears, and yelling “PERSPICACIOUS!” like a man crazed.
“Eddie. What are we doing?” “I’m workin’, doll.” “We are watching an old PBS special about giant crossbows.” “S’research.” “Your article has nothing to do with crossbows of any size.” “Maybe not directly…” “I think we should shut it off and go back to work.” “I think judgy aliens don’t get chocolate chip waffles for dinner.” “…That’s cold, Eddie.”
Eddie waking Flash up in the middle of the night by straddling his chest and shoving the laptop screen in his face. “Read this.”
“What the fu- Eddie? Are you still awake? What time is it?”
“4:17. And I forgot how words work around 1:00.”
“Oh my God. Eddie, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“Just read this sentence. I need to know if this sounds like how humans speak.”
“I’m calling Pete and staging an intervention. Eddie! Go to sleep.”
“After I fix this sentence. Read it.”
“I swear to God, I’ll throw that fucking laptop off the roof if you don’t get it out of my face and go to sleep!”
“Read it!”
“Ask Venom!”
“I need someone who’s spoken English for more than three years!”
A Force Sensitive Phasesixer 