"I have no skill." That was the problem.
"But don't you take any pride in your penmanship or art?"
"That's the problem though. How am I to be useful with such skills?"
"Well, that's quite easy in the modern-" This /dog./
"Modern world? Are you being serious? Writers nor artists similar to myself in skill make much of a living. It's like playing the lottery; one will win and receive all the money from the poor saps who actually paid for scratch cards."
"But the lottery doesn't exactly work that way."
"OK, nevermind my poorly put together analogy. Think about this; you get a devastating disease and are now bedridden until you slowly decay away because I wasn't able to help you at all. How's that?"
"I'm sure you would find a way-"
"Oh, would you shut up? Don't you know how hard I am trying as of now? The best I could do is write a will for you before you passed away. Or, or I could paint you a protrait to hang over your coffin so someone could remember your face. Do you really think that's helpful?"

And then there was silence.

"I bet you would write a mighty fine will for me, at least." The honesty struck me down hard.

It talked as I scrawled it's wishes down. Somehow I was able to see the words and hear the speech through the darkness. We were cutting through paper time with masterfully crafted scissors. Well, scissors we bought from the hardware store. I took some sort of morbid satisfaction as it devled into its own desires and I helped to organize its thoughts.

It was nice. -done-

Looks great :D

You and Ukaber. *-* (mind blown)

Woah.
Like, just woah.

I luv how ur writing is so deep.....it makes wonder about things i never thought about. Wonderful job! ^-^