"Thanks for the soupcon of sarcasm, fella. But look at the alternative. Look at the fiction writers who are making it--they stink! Well, some of'em are all right. But they're not great! Where are the Faulkners of our generation? Smothered by mediocrity."

"What was it that Thoreau said? `It takes two to write a mediocre book: one to write mediocrely and one to read it.'"

"He didn't say that."

"He said something like it. But wait, maybe Thoreau said, `It takes two to write a blockbusting bestseller: one to write it and one to buy the movie rights.'"

"They didn't have movie rights in the 19th century."

The Other waves his ladle to the heavens, exasperated. "You've got to learn to take things for granted."

"That's easy when you're the Other guy....Anyway, speaking of grants, are you applying for any?"

"As Edward Abbey once said `Spend no time applying for gifts and grants--when we want money from the rich we'll take it by force. The honorable way.'"

"Do you believe that?"

"I believe he wrote it. Look, we all know there's the dust of mediocrity covering everything, just as there was in 1886 or 1786--even more, no vacuum cleaners then. That's where we come in, the young writers of the world. We must make our words literary vacuum cleaners to suck the dust of mediocrity into the inimitable vortices of our prose. Didn't Churchill say something about dust: `we shall clear it on the land, we shall clear it on the beaches'--well, it'd be difficult to clear it on the beaches....But clear that dust we must. Until at last the dust is atomic, and even then, it must clear, to reveal that one thing we've been really working for. Oh, writer, don't take up your word-processor for the army that creates a room full of clauses and retractions from the simplest of sentences. Not while there is cleaning to be done!"

"Are you talking to me?" says the One. "I'd like to clean up human thought and contribute to the advance of civilization. But I don't want to starve."

"Instead you'd rather eat torts, eh? I know your type," says the Other waving the ladle at his companion. "Have a little faith! Remember Shaw said: `Where there's danger, there's hope.' I don't know what he meant by it, but he wasn't a lawyer, that's for sure."

"I really must go," says the One, pressing on the glass door of Tommy's."

"Hey," says the Other, eyeing a cockroach. "You go chase those papers, man. But be careful you don't catch any, those bastards get mean when you pin 'em down." So saying, he hurls the ladle at the insect which scampers under a car.

"By the way, where'd you get that ladle?" asks the One. "Oh never mind, it's your metaphor. But thanks again for the advice."

"Don't mention it," says the Other. "You can help me sue my publisher some day."

"Well, good luck. You'll need it." Then the One pauses, and as the grease plays delicately out into the crisp Cambridge air, he adds "By the way, could I xerox a copy of Feldstein-Garcia etc.?"

"Only if you'll buy me some fries and a cheesesteak."