He isn't the only one. There's a million ways to get the itch scratched, to make the desire known, and to have it eaten up and answered and done with. There are Santas Claus and Wicked Witches and Oracles at the end of it all, to tell you how it has to be, and there's your own damn self, and there's the chameleon people, and so on, and so forth, ad infinitum.

He is not the only one, trucking around blackly with me, with his black book and his black baggage, having me write his stories for the Greater Good, for the Exposure, as it were.

He is not the only one, but he's assured me he's the best there is.

<<agé chose>>

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