“Say three random words,” I tell him.

“Three random words.” He grins. He thinks he’s witty.

“Seriously! Say three random words that have nothing to do with one another. I’m in the thick of a fantastic writer’s block. The idea is I have to use the three words in a Ficlet.”

He raises an eyebrow. “What’s a Ficlet?” he asks.

“Only about the most amazing things. They’re stories. But they have to be 1024 characters or under.“

His eyes narrow. “Did you say characters? Don’t you mean words?”

“No, I meant characters. It’s hard sometimes, but it’s fabulous fun. But I still need you to say three random words so I can get this show on the road and finish Ficlet 100.”

“You’ve written 100 Ficlets?” I can’t tell if he’s making fun of me.

“I’ll be able to when you say three words I can use in my next story. Writer’s block, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, right. Sorry, mate. Um…,” he says, and thinks for a moment.

“Cement, milk, and hurricane.”

I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me.