Evil Editor glowered at his counterpart over the mounds of typescript. "Just look at it," he snarled. "There must be enough here for a dozen books."
"Well," said Good Editor with a wry smile, "we can't fault the author for lack of enthusiasm."
"We can fault him for his sloppy plotting," Evil Editor growled. "This storyline veers all over the place like a drunk on roller skates. And how many characters are there? I've lost count."
"True," murmured Good Editor, "the book is certainly as well-populated as the All-You-Can-Eat buffet at the National Bulimics' Convention. But I think the basic spiritual theme comes through strongly in the work."
"What about this?" Evil Editor pointed out a page with one wizened claw. "The transition from part one to part two is as jarring as a phone call from Albuquerque during lovemaking! And the first half of part two is the same sequence of events told from four different points of view! It's as pretentious as a man with a goatee reading thirteenth century Urdu poetry in Starbucks."
"It's a legitimate stylistic choice. It's a pivotal moment in the book; it needs that level of scrutiny, an examination as detailed as the search for a lost credit card in a landfill."
"The last chapter is nothing more than an extended acid trip!"
"It's probably aimed at the Californian market."
Sparks flew from Evil Editor's muttonchops as he fumed in rage. "Acquire it if you must," he said with a sneer, "but even an entirely mythical creature like you must realize, this 'Holy Bible' will never sell."