Last night I dreamed that I was trying to write a story for my buddy Mur* and even though I had a deadline, it kept getting longer and longer. This was a problem because I was writing longhand on paper (which I never, ever do–my handwriting is suitable for artist signatures and little else) and I kept thinking “Crap, gotta stop and give this to Mur!” but apparently I was inspired.
The story was about robots that had discovered a frog. The hero was a kind of noir detective robot, who drank heavily.
The only lines I remember clearly were “He could hear a distant ribbeting,” and “His grandmother had once gotten drunk and calculated the value of pi out to 800 digits. She hadn’t liked any of them.”
*Mur is brilliant, and you should be reading her stuff and listening to her podcast.