The Inevitable Insanity of Elizabeth Bird

Fuse #8: Pssst!

Betsy: (asleep in comfy comfy bed) . . . . .

Fuse #8: I said PSST!

Betsy: meh

Fuse #8:  Psst, I say, psst!  Aren’t you supposed to be reporting on things?

Betsy: Meh?

Fuse #8: You know.  The Harper Collins preview on Wednesday.  The Society of Illustrators thingymajig and consequent raffle on Thursday.  The fact you just saw JK Rowling on Friday…

Betsy: Will you be quiet?  I’m exhausted.  I don’t have time to write about any of that.

Fuse #8: Oh, you poor dear.  Hey, everybody! Look at me!  I’m Betsy Bird and I’m soooo tired after doing all this fun stuff.  Wah wah wah.  Allow me to take out my violin and play a sad sad song for you.

Betsy: That’s quite a tiny violin there.

Fuse #8: World’s smallest.  What did you expect?

Betsy: Look.  If I promise to type all this up in the next few days will you let me get some sleep?

Fuse #8: Because, after all, you have plenty of time to write little exchanges like this one.

Betsy: That goes without saying.