Lon’s editor is a small black bulldog with a thick tail where its hind legs should be.

“Gimme that one,” it snaps, and jerks its head at a word on the page. “And that one. Next paragraph, too.”

Lon obliges, and it gnashes them greedily down. He reads it again: it really is better.

“Whole page,” the editor belches. “An’ another. A chapter. More!”

The story’s as good as it’s ever been, but Lon’s out of paper. The editor fills the room.

“You know what’s next,” it growls, looking down, eyes beady.

Lon nods with relief, and holds out his hands.