Donnn wurrrreeee Iiiyallll tayyy carrrrre uvvvv yeeuuuuuuu
“Well, look at you!” Her chirpy demeanor comforted him, leading him to believe he might be okay.
“You had a car accident. You’re lucky I just happened by or you would have died in the blizzard.”
“Not bad at all. I’m on my seventh rewrite and finally hitting my stride.”
“I mean me. H-how bad am I h-hurt?”
“Oh, silly me, of course you mean you! You’ve got some nasty bumps, but no broken bones.”
She chuckled and said, “You know, you’re just an ol’ dirty birdy. You said my manuscript was cock-a-doodie.”
“Can’t move. I -- can’t -- fuckin’ -- MOVE!”
“While you’re here, I must insist upon no swearing. It has no nobility.”
“I’m tied down! Why am I tied down?”
“To help me rewrite my book, of course!”
“I’m not a writer.”
“I know you’re not,” she snapped.
“Who are you and why are you doing this to me?”
Her bubbly face darkened into granite as her eyes morphed into black slits. “I’m Ms. Leslie Fleigelschmidt. Does that name mean anything to you?”
Memories of his pet rabbit stewed, his family photos violated, the seemingly never-ending letters and manuscripts, and the hundreds of phone calls at all hours of the day and night.
Her eyes remained fixed as her mouth stretched into a grotesque gash. “Yes, I’m that Ms. Leslie Fleigelschmidt. So you had better start showing me a little appreciation, MR. MAN!”