My day started at 5:00 AM. The dogs had all the sleep they could stand, and wanted breakfast. My wife has to work, so it was a reasonable writing opportunity.
I made good time flying out to the writing cabin, and landed just as the sun peeked over the horizon. The elevator lowered the gyrocopter into the hangar, then I trudged toward the stairs.
Lisa Burton met me at the top landing. She held out a half-gallon bottle of sanitizer. “Hands.”
I paused, then reached forward. She pumped several squirts into each hand. “Wash them completely. If you still have some, do your forearms.”
“Jesus! I have enough to do my whole body.”
“Maybe you should. I have. I’ve also wiped down your office and iPad.”
I walked into the cabin, and an alarm went off. “Stop! You are too close to Lisa Burton. Please maintain social distancing at all times.”
“What was that?”
“I downloaded it, then paired it with my internal radar. You’ll find a canister of sterilizing wipes on your desk, and a gallon of bleach beside the door if you have any accidents.”
“That’s awesome.” I opened my iPad and the manuscript for The Ballad of Mrs. Molony. Lisa sat at the far end of my sofa. “What are you doing?”
“Watching. So I know what to clean after you’re done out here. The chair and desk for sure.”
“Is there any coffee?”
“I made it after you took off this morning.”
I headed for the kitchen. “Stop! You are too close to Lisa Burton—”
“Oh, my God. Turn that off.”
“It protects both me and you.”
I retrieved my coffee, then returned to my desk. “I used this cup.”
“And touched the cabinet, and moved one cup to get to your favorite one, and the coffee pot, and who knows what else.”
“I need you to go away. I have to do some writing, and you’re bugging me.”
“Fine. I’ll be in the bubble bath. I haven’t washed up for an hour.”
Music came on over the speakers.
“That’s Lizzie and the Pythons, for inspiration.”
“Cool. What playlist?”
“This one’s from The Hat. I can play Viral Blues if you like.”
“Maybe, when this one runs out. Now scoot.”
She left me to my own devices and I relaxed a bit. I managed to add 1700 new words to my side project. Not my best day, but not horrible at all. I stopped just before I had to describe a tiki bar the previous band trashed the night before Lizzie and the hat had to play there.
Lisa’s voice came over the speakers. “Maybe you should do one of those business letters like everyone else. You know, something comforting in these uncertain times.”
Dear Readers of Entertaining Stories:
We are open for business here at the Writing Cabin. You should have no worries about Lisa Burton, because she is in fact a robot, and immune to catching the virus.
Because it is possible for her to carry and transfer the virus to others, she is currently washing and using hand sanitizer like a mad woman.
I’ve checked our recent invoices, and there is another 50-gallon drum of sanitizer on the way, along with two cases of soap, and twenty-five pounds of bubble bath. She has also rented scaffolding so she can wash the walls and ceiling after I leave.
Rest assured we are still producing new fiction, and will have more releases in 2020. As ebooks only, these are free of all contagions, and you can enjoy them, along with our previous releases in relative safety.
Sincerely, the Management.