Originally Posted by Tasha View Post
“Come back into my room. I have a lot more to talk to you about.” Sean reluctantly came into Darryl’s room. Darryl closed the door sao that they could talk in private.

...

“...They just watch me shoot a whole bunch of people and they never shoot anyone.”
Roberta Period-Singer, using the nom de plume Darryl Garnabbius, removed the page from the typewriter and reread what she just wrote. "Fucking garbage. How the hell is anyone going to buy a story about a hood rat who invites a serial killer into his room for a makeshift therapy session. I might as well go back to writing smut under my old pen name Mohammed Tanaka."

She crumpled the manuscript in disgust and went to the window, gently bending down one of the horizontal blinds. Across the street she espied her elderly neighbor, retired Judge Bob Vellaquamanda, tending to his rose bushes. Hmm... Roberta mused. What about a story about a retired judge who gets high a lot and visits Indian casinos? He could get his dong stuck in a glory hole while being sucked off by an Indian chief, fall in love with said Indian chief, and live happily ever after with his gay lover on the rez.

As Roberta frolicked in her gay Indian reverie, someone snapped her out of it by knocking on her door. Who the devil could that be she wondered?