I struggled to believe my good fortune. It was something I could wallow in, if I would let myself. Not just the icing on my cake – it was even better; it was like the gravy on my pot roast. Thick and rich.
I held the key. The key to something sacred, something guarded. Alas, even the key had a lock. But the lock could be picked…
Evil Editor was strapped to a chair. I hooked him up to the polygraph machine and rubbed my hands together in anticipation, trying to suppress a maniacal laugh but failing outright.
“You are a freak,” Evil Editor said to me. I had no reason to argue.
I flipped the lie detector on.
“Now you will talk, and you will speak only the truth,” I told him. “You will spill all the dirty secrets of the publishing world. Like the time when the editor dipped his stylus in the agent’s ink well.”
“Bullshit,” Evil Editor said.
“You heard me. Listen, minion, just because you have me hooked up to a machine that will tell you if I lie, doesn’t mean you can get me to talk in the first place.”
The lie detector agreed.
“Well then will you look at my manuscript?” I asked.
“Sure. Email it to me, I’ll read it first thing in the morning.”
The lie detector exploded.