I have written a plethora of books in exquisite detail, which has earned me quite the reputation.

However, I was but a dot compared to the long and never-ending list of ‘normal’ people who possess
the same talents as I who have not yet received the fame they longed for while the world shines all the
light on this one book with a funny title and label it with glorious names such as ‘best book of the
month’.

We have come into a new world were all that matters is the cover and repute of the book where even a
leaf with a bland name can offer an amazing insight over the world. Having written a large number of
books, I sometimes feel trapped inside my own thoughts but clearly it wasn’t enough as there was a
celebration amongst prize winning writers across the world in one location...’ Пакао на земљи.’
Knowing I would despise it, I went anyway. I hated every second of it for not only did I had to meet, talk,
and interact with other people, but I also had to watch this one tacky writer go up the stage and call
himself ‘the best writer in the world.’ It was easy to see why everyone wanted to meet him so
desperately but it all felt a bit ‘coordinated.’

I drove back home at 12 AM in my car when it was pitch black with a crooked look on my face. As I was
going by, I saw the tacky writer in the parking lot hanging out with an odd bunch of rapscallions. I
opened the door and heard one of them say ‘We did what you asked and now you gotta’ pay us. Now!’

Now I had in my mind a plausible reason for their pitiful plea but did not want to make any
assumptions... yet. Hopping back into my car I pretended to drive into the people harassing the writer
and quickly asked the person to get into my vehicle. As soon as he sat, I drove as fast as the wind out of
the parking lot, hurrying to a long bridge.

I slowed down my pace for I could not hold myself anymore so I asked,

‘You have fairly odd friends’

‘I have never met those guys, they were burglars’

‘But my instincts tell otherwise, plus I can spot a liar a mile away from here so its best if you spill the
beans or I might reconsider risking my neck out there for a little chicken’

‘But don’t tell anyone. Do you promise?’

‘wouldn’t tell a soul’

‘Back when I was on the stage, I asked this group to act as if they were my fans and—’

‘No wonder the atmosphere felt so strange. Moreover, if even my blind perception can tell that than
everyone else also probably knows too.’

‘I did it because I thought that people, being annoyed of me showing-off my fame, might make the party
dull out of them thinking of me as a proud idiot so I was going to run off in the end because I didn’t have
my money on the moment.’

‘First of all, I agree with everything you said about you being an idiot. Second, your intended outcome
pales in comparison to the risk you took... Why don’t you visit my place and do whatever it is that
writers do when they hang out at each other’s home?’

‘Sure, I could do with a cup of coffee and a long conversation’