'One more manuscript,' said Edwin, looking at the last of his pile. 'One more to go. I'll make this quick.' He pulled the flop from it's wrapping. It was huge, at least two reams' worth, more than a thousand pages. Jesus. Trees had died for this. The cover letter (and indeed, the entire manuscript, when Edwin flipped through to check) had been hand-pecked on an old manual typewriter, a sight so unusual that it stopped Edwin in mid-rejection letter. He turned to the title page. It was called What I Learned on the Mountain, by someone named Rajee Tupak Soiree. Sprinkled across the page-and here Edwin all but guffawed-were little stickers of daisies (daisies mind you), and along the bottom was a hand written note that read 'Live! Love! Learn!'
Edwin chortled in spite of himself. Live! Love! Learn! His mind was already churning up rejoinders: Go! Fuck! Yourself! Edwin pulled out the accompanying letter and began to read: