Little whispered secrets

Here's some insight on how my muse works:

THIS is what burped out of the cerebral cortex of my brain at 3:47 this morning.

"I’ve been a card counter, a bartender, a chaueffer, and after a stretch in Alabama's prison system for grand theft, I even spent some time being a cheese maker. Jack of all trades and master of none, I guess you could say.
But if there’s one thing I’m known for, it’s that I can keep a secret. And let me tell you, Big Stakes Jackie had a secret that was a whopper."


Now... see, here's the thing. I don't know who Big Stakes Jackie is. And I really don't have any idea what the hell his big secret is. Right now, I don't even know the name of the guy who's telling me this.

But I will.

Maybe not next week, next month, or even this year at all.

But eventually, somebody's going to spill the beans. Because, unlike whoever is telling me this story, my muse is a blabber mouth. She just happens to tak her own good time and tell me when she's ready.