"Here's a scintillating opening line." Evil-EE read aloud; "We come from the farm, reeking and stinking of shanty Irish, a family of drinking fools unable to express any emotion except anger. Sounds like multisyllabic, metaphysical lit-fic. All beefy smell and no beefy substance."
"More playwright Eugene than Styronic smell of roses from the south," Good-EE tossed the manuscript like a hot potato. The shredder howled, tornado-like. They read another manuscript. "OH MY Holy Roller! How about openi
Published on May 17, 2009 07:02