Cough... Sniffle...

Tuesday Night:

"There was one. Walking along the highway shoulder, green pack on her back, worn boots scuffing dust as she trudged along, *sniffle*."

"Dammit." 

Sounds of a mouse clicking.

"She had just passed a sign for a turn-off ahead, someplace called Spreewald, Maine. *sniffle*"

"Dammit!"

More sounds of a mouse clicking.

"He ignored the sign, *cough-sniff* internal pressure narrowing his focus tightly upon her."

"Son of a bitch!"

Again, the clicking of the mouse. This time for a while. 

And it goes on like this...

Wednesday Night:

"Benny was well aware that she saw a pot-bellied thirty-something man wearing an unfashionable blue *sniff*  spring jacket."

"Oh, for crying out loud."

Mouse sounds, clicking and clicking.

"She saw his teeth, *cough* discolored and crooked from a lifetime of smoking and drinking with not enough brushing and flossing. *sniffle*"

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

Click. Click. Clickety-click, click.

"And she saw the gun that he usually kept concealed in a gym bag on the passenger's seat. *cough* Now it was in Benny's right *cough* hand. *sniffle*"

"Why!? Why!? Why!?"

And it goes on like this...

Tonight:

*Cough*

"Jesus!"

*Sniffle. Ahem*

"Oh for the love of God!"

...and this is how, during three nights of editing, I decided that it was a really stupid idea to try to record an audio version of one of my stories while I had a cold....

Talk to you later... *cough* *sniffle*