Somewhere out there, someone laughed at what he was writing. Someone else rolled their eyes. As for him, he was just sleepy.
And poverty came over him like a bandit, right on time.
Some Time Later, he came back to the place, picked up the book, and read What Had Been Written.
“Danged if I can make any sense of this s#!+!” he heard someone say, and maybe it was his voice. In any case, he moved on.