Many are the reasons I dearly adore this short fiction: all writers stand accused irrespective of talent or accomplishment; the accusation is made by a parrot, the perfect critter to parrot mindlessly; once the writers discover the accusation will let them write to their heart's content, the parrot, the accuser and anybody or anything else associated with the accusation can all go fly a kite - the supremely important point has been made - they can continue to write!
GRAPHOMANIA by Virgilio Piñera
All writers - the great ones and the hacks - have been summoned to trial in the Sahara desert. For hundreds of miles this powerful army treads the burning sands, straining its ear, its sharpened ear, to hear the accusation. Suddenly, a parrot flies out of a tent. Planted firmly on its feet, it fluffs its neck feathers an in a cracked voice - it's a very old parrot - says:
"You are accused of the crime of graphomania."
It immediately goes back into the tent.
An icy breeze blows among the writers. All heads come together: there is a brief deliberation. The most outstanding one of them leaves the ranks.
"Please . . . " he says at the door of the tent.
At once the parrot appears.
"Your Excellency," the delegate says. "Your Excellency, in the name of my colleagues I ask you: Will we be able to continue writing?"
"Why, of course," the parrot responds, nearly shrieking. "It is understood that you will continue writing as much as you please."
Indescribable jubilation. Parched lips kiss the sand, fraternal embraces, some even take out pencil and paper.
"May this be recorded in letters of gold," they say.
But the parrot, coming out of the tent once more, pronounces the sentence:
"Write as much as you like," and it coughs lightly, "but this won't release you from standing accused of the crime of graphomania."
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