A bit of Thursday fun

"FML," he thought as the phone rang for the umpteenth time.
He slid the right side of his headphones off his ear, interrupting the Smiths streaming on the interweb, and picked up the phone. Not another asshole, he hoped.
"Hello," he said.
No reply.
"Of course," he said into the mouthpiece.
He hung up and resumed what he'd been doing before the latest interruption.
But, sadly, the words had vanished from his head, as though they'd been sucked into the vacuum of the phone call.
He'd been making good progress before the latest annoyance -- he'd gotten two pages nailed with some witty dialogue -- but suddenly it was gone.
He was new to writing, at least this style of writing. After 10 years at a newspaper, he knew how to put words on paper, or computer screen. But this, creative writing was something he felt like he was learning anew. It was his dream; one shared by his mother. And it was a promise made close to her death. He would write his novel. He would give it a shot, even though he knew that every two-bit hack who can string four or five sentences together has the same dream.
"Oh, I can write. I'm funny. People would like to read what I have to say," the refrain goes.
He didn't have that opinion of himself. His mother did, but she was biased, he thought.
Sure, he has stories to tell. But who would want to read them? Who would be interested in his childhood, his troubled teen years or even his tumultous 20s?
And then he realized, he would. A lot of the good stuff he'd read in the past three years -- after his committment to always have a book, or two, in the reading rotation -- was real stuff about real people. His stories were no less funny, poignant than some of the crap he'd poured through.
So, he stood up, walked to the refridgerator, poured a glass of water and walked outside. Sitting on the front step, he thought of the all that he'd been through. Growing up, getting older and finally trying to pass all the lessons, all the don't-do-these-mistakes on to his children.
And then he remembered where he'd been before the phone call.