I sold some clothes to a thrift store the other day and the woman ringing me up asked me what I had done that day and I told her.
SAID I: “I finished a tremendously stupid novella and got half drunk on champagne.”
She asked what the story was about.
“. . . I think it’s about a seven-foot-tall super-soldier who robs a synthetic cocaine factory housed within a volcano in Antarctica.”
She asked me to write down my website and I did. I gave her my email address too. Then she wanted to know what I was doing with the rest of my day.
“I’m going to get all the way drunk on champagne.”