"What do you think huh?" My Agent asked.
"It’s good, yeah."
"Better than that gourmet shit huh?" He asked with too much enthusiasm.
"Yeah I guess." I replied - with my new ‘whatever’ stance.
I was at a dinner party hosted by my agent, his wife and his pretentious industry friends. 6 of them - with their wives, apart from one younger dude, an actor apparently.. Being sat around the table with these individuals was painful enough without the questions being fired in my direction non-stop. It was as if they didn't get enough quality creativity time in their lives so they had to turn to me for some flair.
"So when’s the book out?" A well groomed 50 year old producer asked. 
"Hmmm, not sure. Soon." I mumble in response.
"Probably in the next 3 months. He's on fire right now" counter-answered my agent. Glee in his face.
"What's it about?" The producers younger (much) wife asked.
I pause to answer. Not particularly caring. My agent steps in, "It’s about love - a poetry novel."
Everyone around the table gasps in excitement.
"Sounds interesting." The actor guy says.
 "Can I star in the movie version?" He adds with a sarcastic tone.
"If I finish it, yeah."
My agent laughs nervously, "Good joke!"
"I'm not joking." I say.
"Writers block hey?" The actor asks.
"Yup."
"Me too. I'm writing a novel about war and peace."
"Is it called War and Peace?" I ask, in jest. Warming up to the party. Mainly the guest’s eccentric personalities.
"Yeah! How did you know?" He says. Everyone, thinking he’s joking, laughs. His serious, confused face soon changes the mood.
"What?" He asks innocently.
"You do realise there's a book called War and Peace already?" My agent asks him.
"There is?" He asks - he's so dumb. "That's okay no one will know the original."
I let out an impromptu laugh. The first time I had laughed properly in 3 weeks.
"What do you mean no one will know? It’s one of the most famous books of all time." My agent passionately asks.
I laugh again. No one else does.
"You gotta change the name." Says the producer.
I cackle evilly, amused by the crowd. Everyone looks at me. Bemused.
"Don't mind him he's just in a bad mood. Some girl he liked dumped him." Explains my agent. 
Everyone gasps - 'Are you okay?’ I hear some ask. I decide on melodrama to entertain myself:
"Yeah she's basically taken my mind and put it in an industrial sized cocktail blender and then poured it out into a heart-shaped jug and taken intermittent SIPS from it."
"No one sips anymore." Says the producers wife, really meaning it. She of blonde hair, like a customary token trophy wife.
I nod and agree, "Very true."
"Sorry to hear that man." Says the actor, "I once had to play a heart broken guy in a stage production. Very heart wrecking."
"Yeah? How did that go?" I ask, not at all paying attention.
"It was rather painful actually because I had just broken up with..."
"What about that Mandela eh?" I interrupt him, it was my turn to interrupt people, "Nelson Mandela - Terrorist"
More gasps from everyone. This time of a shocked variety. My agent, knowing that old line, steps in:
"Let's have dessert shall we?"
"You can't say that..." The producer tells me, oblivious to his attempt to change the subject. "What grounds do you have to say that?"
"Well he was part of a group called ANC they threatened and carried out various killings.” My background on this subject was vast - owing to my insistence upon continually using tired and tested line.
"Let's not talk about this now, shall we?" Said my Agent, again trying to change the subject. I loved my agent. He always supports me through all. Writers block, love life...hmmm...I say “everything” but only two things really. That was enough. However, at the risk of spoiling his party, I had to entertain myself.
Everyone in the room, still shell shocked by the statement I made, awkwardly drank their drinks.
A short silence.
The producer’s face filled with disgust whilst he SIPPED his fruit cocktail mixed with a slight drop of Vodka. Then he continues sporadically,
"Seriously there's no foundation for what you're openly spouting out - as if it’s a fact. Absolutely none. He's a living legend."
"I just told you the foundation." I retort arrogantly, also sipping my drink, "Legend? Nah he's not a legend. Superman's a legend. He's almost unbeatable." I quip.
My agent giggles, trying to contain himself.
"So childish." The producer mutters.
"Who’s Nelson Mandela?" The actor asks.
No one answers.
"Actually hunny, he's got a point." Says the young wife of the producer.
"What????" He says loudly in response.
"Well Nelson Mandela did use 'aggressive tactics' - causing terror and panic. I mean that is the definition of a terrorist isn't?"
She was smarter than she looked.
"Why are you agreeing with this man? He's anarchic at best. A plain old childish troublemaker at worst. Why do you always do this? No one wants to hear your opinion. You're here to look good."
I laugh.
"Don't oppress me." The wife emotionally replies, almost shouting.
"Oppress you? You obviously worked out how to use the thesaurus on that MAC that you brought with my black card. What kind of gold digging wife buys an APPLE MAC? I mean buy a diamond ring or a handbag. An APPLE MAC??"
A silence. His wife sobs.
I smile.
He continues his tirade of abuse, "Why defend that guy? You sleeping with him too? Might as well! You've slept with everyone else."
She cries even further. He looks at the actor – deadpan eyes.
"Yes I know she slept with you too!"
Everyone turns to the actor. He pulls a blank expression.
"It was only once!" He innocently says trying to defend himself. An argument breaks out between the three of them. With others joining in to calm them down. A crescendo of discontent.
Perfect.
I sip my water and watch it all, wry smiled.
From across the table, beyond the bickering, my agent looks at me shaking his head - like a disappointed father. I raise my glass to him and grin wildly.
My Happiness had returned.