Truth Or Consequences?

“Hey Mary, you’re home. I didn’t even realize you came in. I’m concentrating really hard on this new story.”

“You haven’t written one in a while, have you? What’cha been up to?”

“Ohh, nuth’in much. Just look’in for an agent.”

“Ya mean like 007, or what? What good’s he gonna do you? You’re not the same suit size are you?”

“Probably not, but that’s not the kind of agent I’m looking for anyway.”

“Alright, I give up. What kind are you looking for. Are we selling the house or what? Just let me know quickly, I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“A literary agent.”

“A what?”

“You heard me, a literary agent.”

“You’re kidding me. For what?”

“For the last book I wrote, that’s what. Ticket To Happiness or the Self-Indulgent Truth?”

“Ya mean you’re really gonna try an sell that thing? I thought this was just some kinda writing jag you’ve been on. Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Serious as I’ll ever be, anyway.”

“So?” asked my wife, with eyes that could rip the self-esteem off a writer as any grizzly bear might swipe the bark from a tree. “You get any replies or what? Make it quick, I gotta get back ta work.”

“Yeah... well, I did get a few. I suppose you could call them replies anyway. One guy told me ta stop the cutesy language and learn real English.”

“So, did you learn anything from that?”

“Yeah, I learned how ta spell; Get Fucked Asshole!”
“Now that was constructive,” answered Mary. “Were there any other responses?”

“Yeah, there were some.”

“So tell me. C’mon, I’ve gotta get going.”

“Ohh, some other guy said he’d get back to me.”

“Did he say when?”

“He did, as a matter of fact. He said, ‘when hell freezes.’”

“Oh, well... that doesn’t sound very promising either, does it?”

“No, I guess not, but I just can’t stop writing now. Not when I’m hot. Not when I’ve finally got the ball rolling. All I need is just a little bit of luck and everything’ll change, you’ll see. It’ll all turn around an the world’ll be my oyster, you’ll see.”

“Okay, you keep me posted now, I’ve gotta get back. Let me know if you get any more replies.”

“I will Mary. Don’t you worry, I’m gonna make you proud you married me.”

“Alright,” said my charming mate, as she walked through the threshold of our door. “Hang in there, and good luck!”

Super, I thought to myself. She’s gone, now I can think. Let’s see... where was I? How about a story about a literary agent who meets with an untimely death, accidentally falls into a wood chipper and becomes fish food? Now where did I put that guy’s address? It’s here somewhere. I know I’ll find it if I just keep looking...