“Listen son, we’re feds.” Said one man as he flashed his badge, “We’re on a top secret sting operation that we’re about to execute, and we could really use your help. There’s no time to lose.”

I was frowning at them by that time, ‘Secret sting operation, ooookay. Someone’s been eating crazy flakes for breakfast.’ I thought, “Top secret sting operation...? You’ll have to tell me more than that. I’m not just going to help out two... Fake looking feds without hearing what it is about.”

“Look, it’s important to the security of not just this town, but for the state.” The other man said, glaring at me.

“We’re just asking you to go in there, and talk to the clerk, and tell him this.” The man pulled out a piece of folded paper, handing it to me.

I narrowed my eyes, unfolded it, then read the words on it. “ ‘My stamps are looking a bit square these days if you know what I mean?’ That’s what I’m supposed to say?” I frowned; it sounded quite outrageous and stupid.

“Don’t question it boy! Just get in there!” One of them cried out, “Times a-wastin’!” The other pushed me towards the door, and I scrambled to move forward so as not to fall.

I glanced back at them before moving forward, glancing at the paper just to make sure I had the line right, stepping through the door and into the darkened postal office. I stepped through the inner door, nearing the desk; there were very few people around, and one of them was a gruff looking short man that stood behind the desk at the back of the room; he was probably standing on a stool of some sort.

He was staring at me with his yellow eyes unblinking. I gulped and moved up close, glancing down at the paper once more, before looking at him. “Uh.. Mr..” I looked at his shirt, which had a tag that said “Hello my name is ‘Bert’ ”, “Bert.. My stamps are looking a bit... Square... These days.. If you know what I mean.” I said carefully.

The man narrowed his eyes and moved closer, opening his mouth to speak, raising his hand.
...........


“S***.” I mumbled, glaring at my typewriter as I pulled part of it back, trying to fix the jam that had occurred. “This would happen, just as it was getting good.”

“Good? Good?! That was friggen bull, man. I mean. I would never do that.” said a voice.

“Well this isn’t you, you remember, it’s the character I was asked to write.” I replied.

“Well you should have put me in there, it would have been much better.” He grumbled, appearing beside me.

“I don’t have that choice do I? You wouldn’t have fit into the story, it would make no sense. Johnny Talbut wouldn’t have fit into it.”

Johnny frowned, leaning down towards me with his palms pressed onto the table I was working on. “I’m insulted Tristan..” he pulled back and disappeared, reappearing behind me, walking off to the right as I stared at my typewriter.

“You know that if I wrote you into something it would have to be immediately action packed, and this one, this one isn’t even worth my time.” I sighed, rubbing my face.

“Then why are you doing it?!” He was right there on the other side of the table, giving me this face, like he was desperate.

“Because I was asked to do it okay! They wanted me to write you into it but there’s no point in putting you in there, because it’s not your type of story! I’d have to write my own thing before I could put you into it. This story isn’t even worthy of you, Johnny.” I stated, shoulders drooped.

Johnny’s face perked up and he fixed his grey/blue pinstripe suit and smiled, “Thank you, Tristan, it means a lot.” adjusting his grey fedora as well.

“No problem buddy.” I smiled back gently, before running a hand through my short hair, “Alright, look. I’ll call Carol and ask her if I can change it. Maybe she’ll talk to the client and they’ll let me adjust the story.”

“And if they don’t?” Johnny asked, his form now leaning against the wall near by.

“Then I’ll change it anyway.” I shrugged, moving out of my seat and moving towards the phone that was along side the wall.”

“That’s my boy.” Johnny nodded, a smile still across his chiseled features before his form faded.

I picked up the phone as the main character to all of my bestsellers, the only three or four books I’ve written in my rising career, went off to do who knows what in the back of my subconscious, and I dialed my agents number and set the receiver to my ear, and waited for her to pick up.

The click I had been waiting for finally sounded as she answered the phone, letting out a resounding, “Hello.”?
“Hey, Carol? Yeah,” I smiled, tilting my head as I leaned against the wall, “I have a proposition for you.”