Clare London lets the Cheeky Cherubs out to play...

Happy Birthday Ginger!




I've known Ginger for as long as I've been published - she's been the best kind of friend throughout my last whirlwind year *lol*. And yet now she's letting me loose with her Blog...??!! *mwahaha*

I'll post a bit about myself later, but while my back's turned, my friends the
~~~Cheeky Cherubs~~~
are itching to get online and talk to the Birthday Girl herself...

“I can’t do it.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m not up to the task. I’m useless. I have no talent.”
“Stop beating yourself up.”
“I’m not worthy…”
“I meant that literally, actually. Put the belt down. Clare needs it to keep her pants up. Now what’s the problem?”
“It’s a special birthday.”
“Ah… yes, I know.”
“Ginger’s.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So… you see?”
“…”
“You don’t?”
“…”
“You know, there was a time I looked on you as a mentor. Yet you can’t even empathise with this very obvious problem of creative flow.”
“Huh?”
“You’re quick enough to correct my passive tense and snap at the hideous crime of splitting an infinitive, but when it comes to the really important things in life…”
“Back off.”
“I need help. I can’t do it.”
“And now your eyes are rolling. Is it the poem you’re worrying about?”
“Yes. I can’t get the rhyming.”
“Let me see the draft.”
“No.”
“Let me…”
“No.”
“Now!”
“No need to snatch.”
“Well, I see what you mean. You can’t put that.”
“Which bit?”
“All of it.”
“But I’ve woven in all the things her friends told me about her. Her wit and her talent and her compassion.”
“But not the lap dancing.”
“Isn’t that true?”
“Nor the consultancy to the Presidential candidates. Nor the modelling for Penthouse. Nor the advice to Yves St Laurent. And certainly not the winning of the New York Marathon.”
“…”
“No good cursing under your breath, I can still hear.”
“But she could do all these things.”
“Of course she could. She’s Ginger Simpson. She’s truly awesome. But she hasn’t done them yet.”
“…”
“No, not even the lap dancing. That was a sneaky rumor put about by those Eternal Press author friends of hers.”
“…”
“No, those photos were faked, I believe.”
“So what’s left?”
“This is good. Listen.”

Happy Birthday, Ginger, our song’s for you,
A woman we love, whose heart is true,
You deserve the greatest happiness and joy,
So take a rest from the blogging, the writing, and…
ENJOY!!

“You think that’ll do? I had no more paper left, Clare grabbed it and covered it with 6 million kisses.”
“Ewww.”
“I know. I do believe she’s done some lap dancing in the past, and do you know what she writes…?”
“Don’t go there. Let’s go deliver the birthday song in our usual discreet way.”
“…”
“Oh all right, then, I’ll be discreet and you can ask for some cake.”
“By the way, thanks for the help.”
“No problem.”
“I was struggling to get a rhyme for lap dancing, actually.”
“No, really?”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“Let’s not bicker. Come along or we’ll be late.”
“…”
“What are you worrying about now?”
“Nothing, nothing. Just working on a rhyme for blog, instead…”


♥ ♥