i get so envious of an up-and-coming writer's success that i go into my garage and i gather up my junk and i disassemble my bicycle and my car and my freezer and my dog and i push everything into a big pile in the middle of the garage and i take the bus to the lake (i disassembled my car and bike) and i wade into the water and just start grabbing stuff and piling it into the basket of my shirt, fish, scrap metal, water plants, mud, glass, sand, shells, algae, until my shirt can't hold any more, and i walk home (they wouldn't let me on the bus with my shirt full of wet refuse) and i dump my wet refuse onto my existing pile and i lock my garage door and buckle down and get to work and after a few weeks subsisting on increasingly rotten stuff that i tossed out of my freezer when i disassembled it i look upon my work and i see that it is good and i enter my newly built time machine and i go back 30-or-so years and i track down the mother of the writer i envy and i slip her the Infertility Pearl that i reclaimed from my disassembled dog (this is the pearl created around the grain of Spay Sand that they implant into dogs when they get spayed, it's the reason spayed dogs can't have dog babies or any other kind of babies and it's harvested to create birth control and abortifacient medicines) and i get back in my time machine and go home and i retype all the stories of the writer i envy which i have memorized and i take them to the writer's publisher (who isn't, in this timeline, the writer's publisher, because the writer was never born) and i say please publish my stories. and the publisher says Hmmmm thank you for entrusting us with your writing, we recognize the hard work that goes into every writer's craft and we are grateful for the opportunity to have considered these pieces for publication. However, they do not meet our needs at this time, so we must decline. Please feel free to submit more of your work in the future. and i say woah woah woah hold the phone, how is that possible, i went back in time and erased Hoobastank Jackson-Smithy from the timeline so i could publish these stories, i disassembled my dog for these stories, you LIKE these stories, you WANT them, i know you do! and the editor in chief says did you say Hoobastank Jackson-Smithy? My, what a coincidence... Jackson-Smithy is my sister's last name, and she always said that if she ever had a little girl, she wanted to name her Hoobastank.