Heh. ita's is a cool take on the literal theme. I love Bev's.

In other news - this should probably go in Literary, but it won't - I'm cleaning the office and just found Harlan Ellison's phone number, in Nic's handwriting, on a sheet of paper from about ten years ago.

I'm very close to doing an Aliens on this office: taking off and nuking the site from orbit.

Sometimes it's the only way to be sure, Deb.

We don't know Harlan Ellison, except as an old GeNie-ite. Why would Nic have his phone number?

And there's a long email printout to Nic, from Jeffrey Eugenides. I am willing to bet that this is a different Jeffrey Eugenides, because I know Nic's never read a word of his. It's all about guitars.

I think I did something very peculiar and science fiction-y to my office while I was cleaning it out. We seem to have wandered from This Universe's Chez Grabien into some Last Action Hero-like alternate universe, where people with no earthly reason to be writing Nic emails suddenly start swapping occupations, or something.

This is mildly creeping me out. I think maybe I should go write something, for the sake of normalcy/

OK. More. Very creepy headspace.

"I'd like to thank all the little people..."

The last thing he expected was to be nominated for a Darwin award. And really, the inevitability of that nomination was not the most meaningful thing to pass through his mind before going into a coma.

It was no one's fault but his own; the "Warning! Hard Hat Area!" signs extended for several blocks in all directions. Yet he'd ignored them, late for work, taking the shortcut to his office, his eyes cast down to avoid the driving rain.

He went into the swinging half-ton of exposed steel girder at a very fast trot.

What a stupid way to die.

(edit: just realised, similar theme to Bev's, if a different POV. I like hers better.)

(am I the only one who wants someone to write a Casablanca drabble for this week's topic)

(I first typed "right", which may explain why I don't do one myself right now.)

Lee, that was my first thought when Teppy posted the challenge: "Of all the gin joints..."

But how could it be said better? Unpossible.

Lee, I'm trying to come up with something suave yet succinct. It ain't coming.

Hey, y'all, here's something random that may be of interest: I just got Lawrence Block's newsletter, and he's trying to clear space in his warehouse. As a result, he's selling off the audiobook version of his book Telling Lies For Fun and Profit. They're $20 a pop, but he'll sell a carton of 25 for $100. You can buy them off his website, www.lawrenceblock.com.

More info:

If you can use these for resale, you won't have to sell many before you're in the black. If you've got writer friends, you can fill their Xmas stockings for $4 apiece. This is, as you may have guessed, a good deal lower than our production cost, but we have to free up some warehouse space.

It's a limited offer—once we've sold down to the level we want, the deal's over. I want to give you newsletter subscribers first crack at this, so it won't be listed on the website. You can order on the web, however; just enter "25" for quantity. You'll get a confirming email automatically, with some ridiculous numbers on it, but don't pay any attention to that; David Trevor will send you a personal email confirming the sale and the real price.

Or, as always, you have the option of ordering directly by email; just include your credit card information (number and exp date) and your shipping address. If you've ordered from us before and your information hasn't changed, just include the last four digits of your cc number, plus the exp date.

Can't scribble in an audio book, can't dog-ear the useful pages. Sigh.