This is a short story I originally wrote on a 1946 Smith-Corona typewriter.

The former English major had one golden ticket out of his parents basement. His writings had to start bringing home the bacon. Bacon of course is code word for money. It takes a lot of money to escape the basement of youth. The heroic English major had yet to ever have a lot of money. His stories were beautiful and funny and charming and witty and amazing. Alas, no bacon had been brought home to fry up. Such are the woes of this 40 year old author.

The basement life was not without its perks. There was a record player down there. There were books enough for 20 years worth of reading. There was a pool table and a bar and a restroom and a TV and a computer and infinite fun to be had. A man…