by The Self-Made Critic

Help me.

Reginald, my latest editor, left in a huff when I insisted that "choco-licious" was a real word. I don't think he's coming back.

I thought I'd be fine without an editor, but I spent five hours this morning trying to think of another word for "old." The best I could come up with was "really really old."

I need someone to do all the stupid things I can't be bothered with, like figure out how to spell "McConaughey." I need someone to collect and clean my cocktail glasses. I need someone to blame.

I need my old editor back.

I know he's reading. He's that kind of guy. Bitter.

So listen, Editor. If you come back to work, I'll give you your old job back, plus a raise, plus on Tuesdays I'll let you decide what station to tune the office radio to.

And, in addition, the first thing I'll have you do is write up a formal apology from me to you for having fired you in the first place.

Make it sound sincere.