"Stooge," said Novel, thrashing his heavy chains of red tape.
"Gah!" cried Stooge.
"Novel! It's you! No it can't be. It must be part of my imagination, or a bit of indigestion. I thought those last nine lattes tasted a bit funny. That's it. That's what you are: You are an old cappuccino!"
"Under-Achiever Stooge! Hear me: You will be visited by three muses tonight."
Clutching his heart, Stooge stumbled to his feet. "Three muses, you say? But why, Novel, old friend?"
"The first muse will visit you on the stroke of one. The second will visit you on the stroke of two. The third one, on the stroke of three. Heed their words, Under-Achiever Stooge, or you may be doomed to a life of edits."
With that, the visage was gone. Stooge looked around, but saw no traces of an intruder. "Bah. Humbug."