A young writer who admired a great editor purchased the final volume of a journal that the great man had edited. The young writer read the journal cover to cover. One story—a page, exactly—seemed out of place, both within the larger context of the journal and even, somehow, within itself. It seemed unfinished.
The young writer, satisfied with the rest of the work in the journal, turned to this unfinished story again and again. Finally he thought he understood what the great man saw that caused him to select the story, and it became his favourite piece in the journal.
Years later, the young writer, now established, met the editor at a function. The editor went out of his way to congratulate the young writer on his latest book. The young writer mentioned the story, saying that it had been a great influence, that it had directed his writing.
“Oh—yes,” said the editor, annoyed. “I remember that story. We cut it, but a single page made into the final printing. It’s bothered me all these years.”
Embarrassed, the young writer made an excuse and left.
Randy joked that he’d sell the TV to Rob for $60 to save us from moving the damn thing downstairs.
It slipped from my hands inches from the top stair. Nothing broke. Rob took most of it, after complaining that he should be on the bottom because of his hip. I tried to lighten the load as much as I could. Cliff watched. Randy had the cast on his leg.
At the bottom of the stairs Rob immodestly wondered whether it weighed 300 lbs. We all told him no.
Randy had to take the top board of the entertainment unit off to fit the new TV. The new TV was larger than the cabinet.
The old TV came out. It still worked fine. Randy said he’d sell it to Rob for $20 if he wanted it. Rob had expressed no interest in the larger TV (he had one the exact same size) but began to inspect the smaller one. At last he discovered it didn’t have the kind of connection that he wanted. Cliff found an old Tarzan VHS. “What are you doing with this?” — “Taking it to the recycling.” — “Until then, let me borrow it.”
The TV wouldn’t fit in the unit.
“Forget about it,” Randy said.
We put the television on the floor.
Last night word was received that the lean of the text origin Al-Qaeda, Osama Biped Laden, was killed by an American opportunity. Subsequently, at a gangster between two American profiteer baseball teardrops, homicide fangs celebrated by throwing their fittings in the airfield and chanting “USA, USA, USA” in support of their teardrop. There has been no word on whether or not any others were killed (in ripples or in republican), and whether or not any of these additional debits will be celebrated.