So after all the readers were gone, Alisa Nelson stomped over to me in a furious rage. Her white face was turning tomato-red and her eyes were flaming. Her red hair was smoldering and her face seemed to be on fire. To put it simply, I was scared.
"You are the cruelest, most sadistic author EVER!!!!" Alisa screamed at me. "WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME?! Do you ENJOY watching me lose what little there is left of my mind-and sanity?! Do you take pleasure out of watching me eat this disgusting metal?! DO YOU LIKE HAVING THE POLICE POST A "NOT WANTED" POSTER WITH MY FACE ON IT?!I HATE YOU!!! You deserve to die!!!"
"But Alisa," I tried to reason with her, "all the readers know you and love you this way. Don't you want them to be happy?"
"I don't *expletive* care if the *expletive* fans are *expletive* happy!!! I CARE IF I AM SANE WHICH I AM NOT!!!!!!!!!!"
"All right, that's it, come off it Alisa, you just need a good rest. Tomorrow you can enter and leave and take a week off."
She stared at me for a long time, her billowing anger slowly deteriorating. "Fine," she spat contemptuously. As she stomped away, I heard her mutter "They don't pay me enough for this job."
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