Evil Monkey: So why the hell haven't you posted anything in the last couple of days? I'm getting bored.
Jeff: I'm trying to finish up the majority of the edits to Shriek by Monday night.
Evil M: Jesus Christ, Jeff! How long have you been at this? I could've had it all done months ago.
Jeff: How so?
Evil M: What the fuck is wrong with you?! Look, how long have you been doing this writing stuff anyway?
Jeff: Awhile. A lot of years.
Evil M: And you're telling me you don't know how to wrap this shit up? Look, edits are easy. You throw in an explosion or two. Add a car chase. Add a sex scene. Add a cliffhanger. Throw in a chapter break. Add a conversation with a priest. Interject a fucking interior monologue. That's it. It's easy.
Evil M: I'm telling you, man. Just put in a car chase. Add a sex scene. These are not difficult things to do. Look, I'll start it for you. Give me that pen.
Jeff: Stay away from my manuscript.
Evil M: I'll just start with "Duncan pushed the taxi driver out of the car, got in, and revved the engine. It was an old Manzikert model but serviceable. The gray caps--"
Jeff: Get the fuck away from my manuscript! Stop writing on it!
Evil M: Back off man. Where was I? "The gray caps were in the sports car darting through traffic. He gave chase. With any luck, he could run them down. They whizzed through the intersection, narrowly missing an old lady and her monkey--"
Jeff: Get-away-from-the-table. Put-down-the-pen.
Evil M: Don't get uppity. I can hold you off as long as I need to, weakling. "...missing an old lady and her monkey. Just then there was an explosion. A big explosion. Greasy black smoke spiraled up into the sky. The docks were on fire, and the gray caps in their sports car were headed right for the wharf. Duncan had to catch them before they made it to the waiting sloop. He gunned the engine, revved it, went as fast as he dared. The landscape was shooting by. Suddenly, Mary Sabon appeared in the back seat, naked. 'I've got no time for this, Mary. I've got to catch those gray caps,' Duncan shouted. The gray caps had reached the docks. He swerved to a stop in an instant, running over a priest, then kissed Mary, and ran forward. He knew he could reach them if only...if only..." That's awfully unsportsmanlike, Jeff, when I'm trying to help you and all.
Jeff: It was the only way.
Evil M: But...to set the manuscript on fire...just to stop me from scribbling on it.
Jeff: You have defiled my sacred book. I had to do it.
Evil M: Well, at least we've kinda had the explosion. I gotta say, this is discouraging. I'm not sure I want to help you anymore.
Jeff: I'm crushed.
Evil M: I'm going to bed. In the morning, I might reconsider and help you out again.
Jeff: You do that. I'm going to get the fire extinguisher.
Evil M: G'night.