"Is it another winning gambling system that can't mathematically succeed?" replied Jimmy Poon.
"Nope, although that's a reasonable guess. No, I am going to become a novelist!"
"Novelist... heee heeeee," replied Jimmy Poon, with an elfin laugh, his little shoulders shaking up and down.
"Not only that, Jimmy Poon, I am going to write not just one novel, but a whole series of them. I even have the cover of my first novel ready to go. Let me explain it all to you."
And so, I explained my idea. People have said (or written) to me before 'hey, you should write a book' and I always think that it sounds like a nice idea but realistically what could I possibly write a book about?
As I sat absent-mindedly shuffling a deck of Caesars Palace playing cards, I pondered how to go at it. I could invent a really unique character, like maybe a private investigator or something, who got into all kinds of investigations, with danger and other characters.
And then I had the a-ha moment. Even bigger than the a-ha moment I'd had when I saw the boy dog dancing with the girl dog. I'd plan out a whole series of books - one based on each of the 52 playing cards in a standard deck!
"Flusher, you super-genius, you've done it again!" I exclaimed.
So where to start? Well that was turbo obvious - everyone knows that a deck of cards starts with the Jack.
I was so happy and tingly wingly! I even allowed myself an extra caramel, snuck from the stash Mrs. Flusher had hidden from me over Christmas.
This was going to be great! Fifty-two novels! I'd be busy until at least 2525, getting richer and richer with each release. Man alive!
"So what do you think? Can you find me a publisher, Jimmy Poon? I've got creative juices pouring out of all my orifices, pooling in my Merrills - I want to get going because right now, I'm on it, I'm firing on all three cylinders, I'm hot, Jimmy Poon, hot!"
"Royal. You are about as hot as the bag of frozen potstickers in my freezer that I serve to company. And, as usual, you are..."
"What? What am I, Jimmy Poon?"
"Stupid. I am sorry to tell you on yet another occasion. This idea is even dumber than the 17 bladed razor you thought up. If I could help you with this idea, I would, but Royal..."
"Look - take a look at the cover of my first private eye novel! It's bound to be a hit. I even have a name for my character and everything!"
And I showed Jimmy Poon the cover of my first novel.
Jimmy Poon looked like he had a constipation headache. You know the kind.
"See? The first card is the Jack, so it's Jack is for Jackass! And the next one after that will be called - are you ready for this? - Ten is for Ten-shun. And after that fifty more books!"
"Royal... how many cards in a deck of cards?"
"How many of them are Jacks? Are you going to write the same Jacking novel four times over?"
"Ace is for Acehole will be dedicated to haters of literature like you, Jimmy Poon. Screw it. I'm done. You've deprived the whole world - or at least my tens and tens of blog followers - of my novelistic genius - I hope you're happy."
"Actually... I am happy. And I hope you have a happy new year, Royal."
"You too, Jimmy Poon. You too. And the razor... would have worked."
This post is dedicated to the late Sue Grafton. I was really hoping she would get to 'Z' but perhaps it is fitting that in the world of Kinsey Millhone, there is one mystery left for us to ponder.