He really needed to get back to his fiction. After checking out an artist's blog for inspiration, he felt it. It started small, a creative rush dripping throughout his body. It didn't feel like writing on the adrenaline-induced equivalent of crack or staring into the eyes of God, no.
This was something different.
It was like coffee, or Super Mario Brothers. This was what one would feel after downing a mugful of rich, luxurious espresso shots. This, he reasoned, was probably how Super Mario felt like after eating a mushroom - bigger somehow, and more secure that while he wasn't really larger than life, there was this voodoo majik that gave him the endurance he needed to storm the castle and save the princess.
Super Mario and espresso. Some reach, he thought after a second. Holy shit, that was a false start. He stood up and closed the computer, headed for the bathroom to take a shit. Afterwards, there was dinner to look forward to. So much for day one.