There's something to be said for hammering out words on a mechanical typewriter that's more than a half-a-century old. The surface of your coffee rippling with each ka-chunk of the carriage stops, the slapping of the strikers against a paper covered drum, the dinging of the margin bell, and the zipping of the tractor feed as you rip your finished page away.
I don't take my fictional works all that seriously, but I did have a bit of a chortle over writing this frothy dweeb fodder!
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