Why, Thalia?

I found out that Thalia is the muse of comedy, and she's been a naughty gal lately. Last night I dedicated two hours to writing material - set aside the time, stayed in, closeted myself in the spare bedroom with the door shut - and Thalia never put in an appearance. This morning as I was on my way to work she pulled up in a blaze of trumpets and started dictating, so I had to rush to the mostly empty offices of WolfBlock LLP and find a pen to write it all down before I forgot it. (I don't usually forget the jokes I write, but given how fickle Thalia's been of late I was taking no chances.) I probably shouldn't complain; usually that muse visits me at 3:30 in the morning, waking me up from a sound sleep to tell me that, yes, masturbating muppets can indeed be funny and relevant to presidential debates.

BTW, finding a pen at WolfBlock LLP has become increasingly difficult of late. Most of those things, along with sundry supplies and office furniture, has been sold to Thalia-knows-who, but I have managed to scavenge a few choice items. I just got my mitts on a CPU, given freely by the firm's dwindling IT staff, which Dan will hook up to the TV. We already have the wireless keyboard and mouse, so that means I can play Galactic Civilizations II from my sofa, bitches!