- Christopher R. Moore
He has locked his keys in his car, modus transportatae. Where's my 24-hour, 7-days a week Life Assistance, APA? What? Guardian angel schmangel. Angelic tow-truck... please... please... pull me out of the rut! He wanted to grab just a quick cuppa joe, then I've planned a bit o' rendez-vousing... But his keys are locked in his car I guess I'll take some more coffee. Where's the telephone booth? A quarter. Money = Time. Look at my watch... Why's my hand still ticking? I'm supposed to be somewhere But his keys, they're locked in the car. Someone's waiting for me He thought he would be punctual But I can't get there. She's still waiting for me. A concrete/brick wall seems to have sprung up mischievously like a eucalyptus tree. Hm. Hold on, let me go wave down my Saviour. He shall come, then I shall go. ... What are you doing? Nothing much. Just writing, you know. Oh. Am I interrupting your writing? Nah, you sure aren't. Good. Please, write. Please, write. I once had ideals, dreams like you. I'm not sure if I want to be a writer, though I do like to write. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to help people. Do you have patience?