"Man, tell me the truth, is this role play? She looks very frustrated and unhappy. I like hot girls, but I don't want to go to jail." Fat Martin said seriously.
Huge villa, empty manor, moldy attic, locked up with a naked beauty... Madoc is probably breaking the law.
"I should have waited a few years before looking for you..." Madoc frowned and stared at Fat Martin, "What a pity, I can't wait that long."
"What do you mean?" Martin asked confused.
"When I went to Frye's villa with a hair stone, I listened to whatever he said.
I'm certainly no stupider than you.
Rather than saying that I believe him, I hope he is telling the truth.
Because I'm really going crazy with the lack of inspiration.
Nine months, I delayed the manuscript for nine months!
My agent is going crazy too.
The publisher wanted to find a gunman to kill me, and then randomly found someone to write for me and finish the book.
Readers are eagerly awaiting the publication of the fifth volume.
My opponents ridiculed, ‘Maddock has exhausted all his talents’, ‘Maddock can only write half a book, there are too many short-lived authors like this’…”
Madoc stared at Fat Martin who was stunned there, with malicious ridicule flashing in his eyes, "How many months have you been delaying the manuscript?"
"Well, it's only one or two years. I'm old, and readers should be able to understand. Besides, I don't have a contract with the publisher, so they won't force me."
Martin's expression was stern, but in his heart he recognized Madoc a little more.
——They are all the same people!
Madoc said quietly: "You are slightly luckier than me. Game of Thrones, adapted from A Song of Ice and Fire, can be broadcast for at least another four to five years. This is also your deadline.
Even if you are overdue, they can understand because you are an old man who is almost 70 years old.
But you are more unlucky than me.
The older you get, the harder it becomes to write works that satisfy yourself and readers.
If the American TV series "Game of Thrones" ends before "Ice and Fire" is completed, it will definitely be unfinished.
This will do great harm to your reputation and your status in literary history, and will also disappoint the millions of readers who admire you and like you.
Unless you can write impeccable volumes six and seven later.
Can you?"
"It should be possible..." Fat Martin sweated on his forehead.
Madoc sighed, "I was more anxious than you back then, so I didn't question Frye at all, I pulled her and ran home.
The first thing he did after returning home was to press her down on the musty old sofa in the attic and take possession of her.
I was really nervous at the time.
Then, I said to myself, she is not a human being, and no human law can judge me.
But she does look like a human being, with a soft and warm body and a sweet and clean breath. Although she is thousands of years old, she is sobbing under me like a child.
For a moment, I thought that old bastard Frye had lied to me.
If she was really an ordinary girl, I would be doomed.
With such excitement, I gushed out inside her.
At the same time, there is also a head spurting out, full of inspiration, like a faucet hit by a car on the side of the road, which cannot be blocked no matter how hard it is blocked.
I didn’t even wear any clothes, so I dragged my dick and ran downstairs. For three hours, I typed more than 50,000 words on the computer.”
"Oh my god, you have to write more than 50,000 words in three hours, do you press your face on the keyboard? Can the shit you write be served to readers?" Martin shouted.
"You've already eaten it, and you're still cheering loudly." Madoc said proudly: "I didn't change a single word afterwards. In other words, the more I changed it, the worse it became."
"You didn't lie to me?" Martin turned to stare at the blond woman in the corner, swallowed, and his eyes became fiery.
"You are only her fourth generation master." Madoc sighed.
"You got her from Frye, and from whom did Frye inherit it? After all, she is at least fifty years old, right? Is she really a muse?" Martin asked in surprise.
Maddock said: "She has been Homer's muse and is at least several thousand years old. Her first owner should be familiar to you, the most famous director in Hollywood in the 1930s and 1940s, Alfred Hitchcock."
"Where did Hitchlake find her?" Martin asked.
"Calliope, come here to meet your new master and answer his questions." Madoc waved to the woman on the bed.
The woman looked sideways, her fluffy blond curly hair sliding, revealing a beautiful face full of water.
Fat Martin was stunned.
"Madoc, you promised me that you would never hand me over to anyone else again," the woman said bitterly.
Her voice is like the sound of a piano in an empty valley, melodious and clear.
It's like the cry of a young phoenix, or like a mountain spring flowing into a shallow pond.
Martin was immediately convinced that she was truly a goddess.
Because mortals will never be able to produce such a beautiful voice.
"Caliope, sweet voice, she is the true muse, Calliope, thank you!" Martin murmured in shock.
Calliope means "sweet sound".
In addition to the Muses, Calliope is also the ‘god of singing’.
"Writers are all liars, our job is to make up stories and decorate readers' dreams with beautiful lies.
Honey, I thought you understood this already.
Well, when Frye handed you over to me." Madoc smiled.
"Yes, Frye lied to me, and Hitchcock also lied to me, but I always have the last illusion about human nature." Calliope said sadly.
Madoc nodded and sighed: "I understand that you are a muse, with delicate and rich emotions. This is your nature.
If one day you lose your illusions and innocence, you will no longer be able to inspire us."
"I'm about to wither." Calliope said desperately.
"At least not yet." A hint of impatience flashed across Madoc's face, "George Martin will soon be your new master. Tell him your origins and dispel his doubts."
Calliope cannot refuse any order from her current master.
She lowered her head and murmured: "In the spring of 1927, I couldn't bear the homesickness and returned to my hometown in the world, Mount Helicon.
That day, I took a bath in the clear spring pool that I used to go to every day, and at the same time I was reminiscing about the good times that had passed.
At that time, we nine sisters were still being pursued, admired, and needed by smart artists.
Just as I was lost in thought, Hitchlake came to the lake. He was holding the wizard's garlic in his left hand and a roll of parchment in his right hand.
At that time, he was 27 years old, in his prime, and exuding a charming literary and artistic atmosphere.
So, I didn't run away immediately.
When he smiled and asked me which goddess I was, I told her my name was Calliope.
He repeated my name several times like a mantra, then lit the scroll and said to me - OK, you can call me master."
"So simple?" Martin glared.
"I personally told him my real name, and he still held the wizard's garlic in his hand. When he performed the ceremony, I couldn't resist." Calliope said bitterly.
Martin asked curiously: "What is wizard garlic?"
"The magic grass flower in Homer's epic poem "The Ocyde"." Maddock said.
"Magic grass flower..." Martin remembered it after thinking about it for a while.
"Osaid" mainly tells the legendary adventure story of the Greek hero Odysseus on his way home after the Trojan War.
One day, Odysseus came to the island of Circe, the witch god. All the crew members were turned into pigs by witchcraft, but he resisted Circe's magic with the magic grass flowers.
"Magic grass flowers have special effects on Greek gods, especially women.
This secret was told by Calliope to the blind poet Homer, who wrote it into his epic poem and everyone in the world knew it." Madoc said with a smile.
Calliope lowered her head.
There was no regret, she just had a numb expression.
"Since she is the muse that has brought countless inspirations to writers, why did you give her to me?" Martin asked doubtfully.
"The time has come, and my contract with her is about to end." Madoc sighed.
"Does it have anything to do with me?" Martin asked.
"It's relevant, but there is no light." Madoc said with a complex expression: "When I met you today and heard the news of Frye's death, the magical contract between me and her was suddenly touched, and I knew it was time to give up on her."
"What touched me?" Martin asked curiously.
"When you become famous, when you write many novels, poems and screenplays, when you are satisfied with your current marriage, when your desire to create is no longer so burning, when you meet someone who needs her far more than you do,
It’s time to dissolve the magical contract between you and her.”
Looking at Martin's blank, fat face, Madoc breathed a sigh of relief and said: "This is what Frye said to me at the beginning. Like you, I can't understand it.
He said to me - remember my words, you will understand one day.
now I understand.
It doesn’t matter if you don’t understand these words, you will understand one day.”
"What should I do?" Fat Martin looked excited, but his tone was a little uneasy.
"Bang——"
The door was suddenly kicked open from the outside, and a young female voice said coldly: "George, Madoc, your trouble has happened!"
"Who - ah, Harley Quinn!" Madoc suddenly turned around and exclaimed.
"It has nothing to do with me!" cried Fat Martin.
"Congressman Quinn, or General Quinn, this is a private residence, you, you have no law enforcement rights!" Madoc said with an ugly face.
"Ivy, tie up these two villains." Harry said.
"Swish swish -" Ivy waved her hand casually, and two vines with green leaves sprang out like flying snakes, and tied the two great writers into rice dumplings in a few seconds.
"No, you can't do this to me. I'm a socialite and I didn't break any laws." Maddock struggled and screamed.
"Do you know why I'm here?" Harley asked.
"I don't know, but I know you have no right to do this to me."
"Calliope!" Clio burst into tears, hugged her sister and cried, "Hera, what have they done to you!"
"Clio, you're finally here, wuwuwu..." Calliope hugged her sister's neck, beat her back hard with her little fist, and cried: "Why didn't you come earlier? I was beaten."
I have been locked up for almost a hundred years, and in a few years, I will die."
"I didn't break the law. She is not a human being. She is just an object, an object that provides inspiration for writers." Maddock shouted.
"I was just passing by..." Fat Martin wailed.
"Even if she is not a human, she is still an alien. You deliberately kidnapped, imprisoned, violated the alien VIP, and destroyed the friendship between the earth and the great Olympus civilization. She deserves to be cut to pieces.
Be honest and untie the contract, and I will give you a pleasure." Harley said.
"You want to kill me?" Madoc was stunned, and then shouted in disbelief: "You are a ball-protecting hero, a mayor, and a superhero. How can you kill people casually? I have not committed any human violation.
The law!"
Harley kicked him and cursed: "Open your dog eyes and take a good look. How do I look like a superhero?"
"You look like you everywhere when you are in front of others." Madoc shouted aggrievedly and fearfully.