Dylan slathered peanut butter on his carrot. It stuck to the carrot better when he didn’t peel the carrot first. He hopped over the back of the couch and landed lying down, a move he practiced daily so as not to lose his touch. “Hey Cody, how’s the novel going?”

Cody unhunched from his laptop. “I just wrote a description of the bad guy. Wanna hear?”

“Fire away,” said Dylan.

Cody cleared his throat. “’His complexion was like he’d splashed orange juice with extra pulp on his face and let it dry, then sprinkled stale chocolate sprinkles, the long kind, on it, and then pointed a hair dryer at it long enough for the sprinkles to melt and fuse, and then brushed shellac over the whole thing and let it dry.’”

Dylan swung his legs off the couch, sat up, and leaned forward. “I’ve got one word.”

“What?” asked Cody.

Dylan took a bite of the peanut butter carrot and chewed it thoughtfully.

“Just tell me,” said Cody.

“Destiny,” said Dylan.

“Really? You liked it?”

“It so spoke to me. I could see the dude. And I knew he was the baddest bad. Write more.”

“Okay.” Cody rehunched over his laptop. Dylan chewed on the peanut buttered carrot.

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