That Rock, the Moon, is Mine

Every day you've hounded me: "Aren't you supposed to be a writer?"

"Yes," I reply. "Of some note."

"Then why do you keep talking about totally unrelated stuff?"

"Because, my next bestseller is about how the entire history of the planet hoists its gravity onto an single person in the wasteland of a nearly deserted 21st century town."

"And...?"

"And everything matters."

"That makes no sense."

That's why I had to konk you on the head and pop you into my cauldron like that. Plus, I was hungry.

Sorry.