I Loathe Writing. On The

Nature, It Appears, Has Been Rather More Bountiful To Paul's Body And Purse Than To His Intellect; Above The Ears, Speaking Bluntly, The Boy Is Strictly Tapioca.

In Pulp Fiction It Is A Rigid Convention That The Hero's Shoulders And The Heroine's Balcon Constantly Threaten To Burst Their Bonds, A Possibility Which Keeps The Audience In A State Of Tense Expectancy. Unfortunately For The Fans, However, Recent Tests Reveal That The Wisp Of Chiffon Which Stands Between The Publisher And The Postal Laws Has The Tensile Strength Of Drop-forged Steel.

Only The Scenario Writers Are Exempt. These Are Tied Between The Tails Of Two Spirited Caucasian Ponies, Which Are Then Driven Off In Opposite Directions. This Custom Is Called A Conference.

One Stifling Summer Afternoon Last August, In The Attic Of A Tiny Stone House In Pennsylvania, I Made A Most Interesting Discovery: The Shortest, Cheapest Method Of Inducing A Nervous Breakdown Ever Perfected. In This Technique..., The Subject Is Placed In A Sharply Sloping Attic Heated To 340 F And Given A Mothproof Closet Known As The Jiffy-cloz To Assemble.

I Tried To Resist His Overtures, But He Plied Me With Symphonies, Quartets, Chamber Music, And Cantatas.