"You want another beer?"

"I'll get them. You sit down and start typing something. How about a real short story about how great the pressed food is?"

The writer turned to look at his friend. They both burst out laughing.

"Well, it's somethin' anyway," said Mo, "and you'd just make up some dumbass happy story so they don't take you away."

"I can't do that." The writer hung his head down. Closed his eyes as if wishes came true that way.