Big Bob was already sweating when he rang

Big Bob was already sweating when he rang the doorbell dreading the next hr but he was the "right shape for the job" as his brother Marty said. He was fidgeting with the beard when

The kind of stares that one gives an enemy who has bested you. You know that impotent but rageful stare? That sort of I could kill you but I am weak stare. He was attracting those.

He flipped them all off, those starers, and stomped into the Kinko's. Inside, he dropped his 128 page manifesto on the counter and ordered 16 copies. The copy jockey looked at him

with perspiration dripping profusely from his forehead. "I have one million copies to make for another asshole. Why not do it yourself," grinning and pointing to a 20-year-old

typewriter. Each button on its keyboard was huge and required immense amounts of strength to press down. Dennis was also sweating hard by the time he finished his first sentence.

And he slipped on the letter P and rolled down to the space bar and laid there for a long moment, rubbing his tiny appendages, and emboldened himself for the task at hand.

Mr. Faulkner took a look at the old Smith - Corona Zephyr and said the P key would have to be replanted in the keyboard. He agreed to have it fixed acordingly and knew it would

hinder him greatly from using any words in his story that included the "p". Actually, 25 more letter appeared in the alphabet and he was confident that soon

he would be fluent with a vocabulary stripped of all words containing "p." He then easily dropped all consonants that used the lips: b, f, m & v. His lips were never chapped again.