Elocutor

The little Typewriter Guy In Your Head is not happy. He's wringing the damp rag of imagination, and is only getting tiny droplets.

Typewriter Guy is stymied -- work is a pain in the balls the last week or so, and he's not getting more than a few minutes of uninterrupted creative time a day with which to weave the webby-magic-make-em-ups that are his hallmark.

Also, Typewriter Guy In Your Head is fat. The Stupid Scale is a pole-smoking sonuvabitch when stood upon in the morning. It keeps displaying to him a number higher than the one he expects to see. Stupid Scale makes Typewriter Guy have low self-esteem.

Typewriter Guy in Your Head wants to have a week off, so he can recoup his creative batteries by reading Mary Roach books and watching "The Shield" on DVD. Typewriter Guy is just starting to enjoy the warmth of summer, but whenever he gets used to it, it's "back into the Brainpan with you, ye scut!"

Typewriter Guy In Your Head applied for a handgun license nine days ago. Only one more day to go...