hash and eggs

I cannot tell a lie. I must tell several, in quick succession. And why not? What else am I supposed to do when faced with this... "assignment," for lack of a better term. ("Dilemma" was already being used.) I was given the task to go into my literary closet and resurrect the dead. Poems and prose alike, just hanging there lifeless on wire hangers no less. Outfits once destined for the Salvation Army had to be stitched into a passable frock for daytime wear -- and cocktails at 11am. Hemline above the knee, if you please.
How was I to bring new meaning to these works that had found themselves couched comfortably in the confines of a dark 3x5 cell awaiting word from my executors for the date and time of my estate sale? These are the items that would be placed in -- what do they call them? LOTS, oh yes. A fancy catch-all term for "everything in this box $1."
Anyways, this whole ordeal got me to thinking about my own mortality. And the fact that I'm half past due for a Manhattan. They say that when you have a photograph taken, that it takes away a part of your soul. Personally, I think they are getting "soul" and "salary" mixed up, but that's beside the point. What I'm trying to say is that we writers pour so much of ourselves onto the printed page, certainly we must sacrifice a little bit of our life energy to the written word. Believe you me, there's a small charge to be paid the Reaper for every split infinitive and dangling participle. A short story is all good and well. But, a novel will just about fuck you up in the worst way. Hell, cigarettes only chop 7 minutes off your life, but a serialized book will top that by a good half hour.
The way I see it, there really is no use in going back to revisit the past and find it inadequate to the memory of the present. You can't unscramble an egg. The stories are still there, in the shoebox of my mind... but the shoes are missing. There, I've gone and done it. I've ruined the assignment. Allow me a moment to collect my thoughts and punish myself with a thirst-quenching cocktail.