*Ring Ring*
“Hello, may I offer my condolences to Mrs. Durham? I know I couldn’t possibly be talking to Mr. Durham because he promised that I would samples from his book. I’ve checked my mailbox, no samples. I’ve checked my inbox, no samples; I’ve checked my voicemail, no oral samples; I’ve checked Facebook, Blogger, and whatever silly crap you writers get into and wouldn’t ya know it, no samples. Mr. Durham must have died. I hope he at least got a book deal from whatever Devil he sold his soul to because I can’t get him one.”
“No Mr. Durham, I think it is absolutely wonderful that you got back together Mrs. Durham. I hope you knock some sense into your kids, and the mother doesn’t eat them. I am sorry to tell you that screwing your girlfriend is not going to get you a book deal. I don’t care how good you think you are; you’re not out there sleeping with publishers so it doesn’t matter now does it?”
“I really don’t care that she is screamer or that your neighbors called the cops on you for disturbing the peace. It’s my job to get your ass in gear and if I have to send your girlfriend several whips, chains, and a copy of Venus in Furs, I’ll do it.”
“I’m glad she likes leather nine-tails you got for Christmas. Could you focus long enough on the supposed book you say you want to write? If you want to write something else, that is fine, but you have to let me know and send *&$%#^#@ samples. You have got to have someone objectively look at your writing, figure out the appropriate audience, and find the right publisher… I’m glad she likes your writing but is she going to be able to tell you any differently with your ego in her mouth?”
“I’ve already checked my inbox. Unless you wrote about meeting real singles in my area or gave me something called “Sexually Explicit” half a dozen times, I highly doubt you actually sent anything.”
“I’ll just get back to you in a week after the initial buzz of whatever drug she has got you on has worn off, alright? … Yes, I know you love me… I care for you too. In fact, I care enough about you to let you know, I think you should put the beer down… No, I am not a wizard, you are just drunk. Just hang up the phone and cuddle with toilet bowl… Take two Advil and call me after the hangover… I know you feel pretty and witty and gay… I pity any girl who isn’t you too… Just go get some sleep. Sleep tight kid… No I’m not going to sing you a lullaby… I miss old school Nintendo too. Goodnight.
*Click*
Labels: drunks are people too, faux agents for faux people, you can't sell things you don't believe in