Good Editor picked up the top page of a manuscript. "Last one? Karma's on my side tonight."
Evil Editor grabbed the page from Good and slammed it onto the desk. "Don't touch that, you'll disturb the microbes."
"But, there's an author somewhere who's bled out his soul to produce what a blind earthworm might term writing." Good pried Evil's fingers away.
"His soul would have been of more use donated to the IRS." Red light shot from Evil's eyes but was deflected by the wholesome glow surrounding Good. "That has all the passion of a terrorist charity revival. I must keep the author writhing with uncertainty."
Good raised an eyebrow. "My dear sir, ruthless vigilante sorcerers couldn't prevent me from stomping any author's hope with a Godzilla-sized Smokey Bear." He snapped his fingers and handed the manuscript to the man who appeared. "Minion, arrange the pages according to the Fibonacci sequence interspersed with the prime numbers. Draw large circles on each page then shuffle them; underline a few words, shuffle the pages again, doodle in the margins, then put them back in order. Use this pen -- the ink in the last one wasn't leaking through enough paper."
"Wait," said Evil, "you have ink that bleeds through pages?"
"Chapters at a time, just like plot holes. And words written with it are impossible to read, just like most authors' English. Consideration should be dispensed in equal measure to that given." Good cracked his knuckles.
Evil began to drool.
Handing him a card, Good said, "I have the pens custom made; here's the supplier. Now that we're finished, how would you like to watch an edited version of 'Misery'?"
"Edited?" asked Evil, suspiciously.
"Annie's got our face and the ending's been fixed." Good clapped Evil's shoulder. "You'll love it."