Excuse me, Evil Editor?
How did you get in here? Mrs. V., call security.
Mrs. V. isn't out there.
Oh right, I sent her out for my cheese danishes. What do you want?
What I want is for you to publish my novel, but my agent refuses to send it to you.
Remind me to send her a thank you card. Who is she?
Kristin Nelson. Do you know her?
Know her? I used to date her. If you could call it that. Not much of a night out when your date has her damned ipod blasting the whole time. It's a little distracting when you're trying to eat your soup and your date keeps jumping out of her chair and gyrating like a pole dancer to some sappy pop tune. Not that that had anything to do with our break-up. In fact I kind of liked going to a restaurant and not having to talk. Made me feel less guilty about watching the football game on the TV behind the bar.
So why did you break up?
I wanted her to peddle my autobiography, More Than Muttonchops. She wouldn't take me on. I mean, one mention of the book on my blog guarantees 50,000 copies sold, and that's just the first day. So WTF?
Maybe she was intimidated by the prospect of working with a genius.
You know, I like your style, kid. You've got spunk. What's your book about? Tell me it's got zombies and sharks.
Why, yes, it does. Now.