Legal Disclaimer: Saban owns the Rangers, I just borrow them.
Author's Note: In English class, we did some creative writing about a problem we had. I really didn't have any, so I exaggerated events in my life, and somehow, my muses got to me, and turned it into a bloody muse fic!

Deadline
by Mistri, Cho's Observer

Another day. One day closer to the deadline. I need to have another story ready for submission. Which is why, instead of being outside, using my leisure time to do things like footy, etc, I'm inside. But before I can do that, I need to load up my computer, grab my six muses, and log in.

These muses, for some unknown reason have come up with names which don't make much sense to me. The green dragon, who has a personal animal form of the panda, has named herself Gemma Geneva Oliver. Black, personal animal form of a mouse, has named herself Gesica Calika Park. Pink, personal form of an elephant, has named herself Ebony Ebrale Chan. Blue, personal form of a frog, Ashley Lares Stewart. Yellow, lion, Karina Kalends Kwan. Red, puppy, Veronica Vedic Collins.

Thus begins the battle between me, the author, and them, the six female muses who didn't wish to be separated from each other. There's a number of reasons why I'm writing a story now, such as there isn't much else to do, and I've got to have another story for the next update. "Okay girls. Which story do you have ideas on? Destruction, Vs, or Aisha?" The girls say they have ideas on Vs, and I open it. "They've got an assault course. How do I divide up the teams?" The girls decide to skip to Thursday, and announce they've failed, so I do.

A muse is supposed to help authors write their stories, but working with muses is tricky at the best of times, and with six muses, it's a wonder I have anything submitted before the first and fifteenth of every month. I sigh, open Destruction, and scan the story. I've got my characters looking for a guy who's blowing up the town, and I have to get them back to school before anyone notices they're gone and gets suspicious. Or, I could declare an emergency, clear out the schools. The girls pipe in that if I clear the schools, I could make that the hiding place of the guy, and then solve a couple of problems at once. It makes more sense for it to be the high school, they say, because most of them are there. I counter with, "But most of them are getting ready for graduation."

They're right - 'as usual' one of them says - it would solve a lot of problems. Except - who's blasting the town? How'd they get to the school? Why didn't the scanners pick it up? Their response - 'How should we know?!' I point out they are supposed to be my source of inspiration, and they go off in a sulk and refuse to help. So I struggle on alone, and echo the words of my friend Mele, "WHY DID I EVER WANT A MUSE?"

But I instantly reclarify. It's not them. Sure, they're hard to work with, but it's the deadlines. School has projects, exams and such, home has all the little tasks, and Robert wants this story by the next update! With all those responsibilities, I have no time to relax, no leisure time. But with all responsibility, I have to deal with it. So I go back to the story, Destruction, and see what the girls think. Of course, depending on what muse you have, some ideas are trash, or ideas that are not for you. Mine have come up with trash. The girls think I should introduce Jen, Trip, Katie, and Lucas. I gently remind them that I'm not ready for them as we know them, and they start complaining, and I say we can have an 'Alternate Destinies' gang. So we leave them searching for the guy, and go forward 1000 years.

The girls suggest the 'molecule'. This needs explaining, and basically, it's something you get from having the 'force' inside you. It doesn't harm or help you, but the girls think Alex should be dying because of some little detail they haven't quite worked out yet, that deals with that 'molecule'. So Alex is dying, and because he's Jen's fiancì, Jen doesn't want to leave for the past. Of course, Jen is Alex's great x 39 grandmother. But she doesn't know that. Yet. 'Of course not' say my muses. They don't care about the laws of space and time, and as they point out, those laws don't really apply in my stories. I grant them that, and continue. After some productive work, I start HTML'ling the stupid story, and glance at the calendar and continue.

I check the date again. Oh, dear Sophia! I've got exams tomorrow, I've got to send this to Robert tomorrow and I need to clean my room!!!

Responsibility. You can take it or leave it. Me, I'll leave it any day.

End