“No!” I screamed, my eyes ablaze. “What is this?”
“Mom, now don’t get upset. I can explain.”
“Clark Anderson Fouraker, you were asked to polish and refine My Name Is Legion while I was away! Is this what you call refining?”
I lifted 100 addition pages he had added to the manuscript. “What is this?” I screamed again.
“Mom, it’s easy to explain.”
“Then, explain.” I said, shaking a sheaf of papers in his face.
“Well, see, Mom…” he paused.
“Don’t stop now. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
My eyes bore into a paragraph on the top page I was holding. “Heinz and Cogburn stood on the veranda waving good-bye to Pickles and the kitty cats as they backed down the drive in their mini van.”
“Well, Mom, see…me and Quiggy and Chloe, Heinz, Cogburn, Pickles and the kitty cats thought we would…”
“Stop right there! Don’t tell me that while I was away on a retreat you took the liberty of writing yourself and everyone under this roof into MY manuscript!!!” I pointed to the ceiling, outraged.
“I just gave us small parts, Mom. And it wasn’t everyone. I didn’t write in parts for Dad and Masa and the maid.”
“Well, aren’t I the lucky one? If I had been gone another day everyone in the neighborhood would have played a a major role in my book!”
“No, not really, Mom. I didn’t want to make you mad, so I stopped after I wrote a part for all of us guys.” He dropped his head in shame. “I only gave us small parts.”
“A hundred pages of small parts! You have until dinner time this evening to get my manuscript back exactly as it was when I left it with you and you are never to write yourself or anyone else into my books. Is that understood?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I guess I got carried away.” He said, meekly.
“Give me a hug.”
As I reached for him my eyes locked onto the title page of my upcoming mystery lying on top of the desk.. My Name Is Legion, it read, by Clark Anderson Fouraker with Margie Myers.TBC

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.