Technician at Publishing House Leaks Author’s Unfinished Book

Hello, I must remain anonymous because I could lose my job doing this. The editor of Dane Zeller’s new book, “Deadly Soup,” is nitpicking the manuscript so much that the book will never get published.

Healthy Soup

This is a disservice to the author, and to the private investigator, Donald Milkey. I have the password to the blog, and I have the motivation to expose this editor’s need to keep fame and financial riches from Mr. Zeller. I hope everyone understands. Here is an early chapter from “Deadly Soup.”

Don Milkey looked inside the refrigerator in his studio apartment. A carton of takeout Chinese food hugged the back wall. The box commemorated the dinner three weeks ago that celebrated his sixth anniversary with his girlfriend, Helen.

A six-pack of bottled water stood as a remembrance of his gallon-a-day water diet. A diet Shasta cola, way past its expiration date, sat on the second shelf . Bottom shelf: a pound can of decaffeinated coffee and a package of celery, each stalk browning at the end. At the far back of refrigerator he saw a circle of grime that he remembered to have been laid down by a can of Schlitz, now long gone from the shelf. He reached in and removed the carton of Chinese to the trash can. He did not look inside the little white box.

The phone rang. Don tossed the greenish-brown celery into the trash can beneath the sink. He walked over to the end table next to the couch to listen to the message.

“Don. Don. Pick up the phone. I know you’re there. Just pick up now and you won’t have to dial my number later on. Hey, Milkey, it’s me. Remember? Your girlfriend, Helen. Okay, then I’ll just talk until your tape reaches the end. You know that time you went to AA and you traded numbers with your sponsor? Yeah, that’s right. You gave him mine. He’s called me ten times now. ”

Don went to the bathroom and washed his hands. He could hear Helen in the background. He wiped his hand on the towel Helen had offered to wash two weeks ago, and returned to the recorded message.

“And, hey, I got other things to talk about, too. Whadya think? Call me,” Helen said. “Miss you.”

Don rewound to the start of the message. “Helen.”

“I knew you were there, you son of a bitch. Are you trying to avoid me?”

“No, I was just fixing dinner, and it took me a while to get to the phone.”

“Listen, would you call this Frank and get him off my back. I’ve been ‘god-blessed’ so many times I’ll be going to heaven on the bullet train.”

“I’d do it, but those meetings are so long, and I’d have to talk about myself.”

“Geez, I see your point. Especially that one about talking. Hey, I heard from my school secretary that there was something happening early this morning down by the Broadway overpass. Some kinda road-rage thing.”

“Oh?”

“Some guy swerved to avoid something in the road and got hit by a car from the rear. Policeman had to separate the two drivers.”

“How’d she hear about it?”

“We’ve got our grapevines.”

“Oh, yeah. Those.”

“She said the older guy called the younger guy a punk and an a-hole and a moron.”

“Oh, I see. You thought I might have been involved.”

“Aren’t those your three favorite words?”

“Did she hear my favorite phrase, ‘shit-for-brains’?”

“No.”

“Then you had no worry.”

“Don’t try to destroy my hobby, Don.”

“What hobby is that?”

“Fear. Fear that you’re going to piss off the wrong guy, and I’m going to be a widow before I’m even married.”

  • Dawn

    Dear Anonymous, You’re a true patriot. Thanks for getting this vital
    info out to the public. A great story sitting on some editor’s desk –
    what a crime.

    • A. Guest

      Thank you, Dawn. I assure you that you’ll be first on my defense fund list. Thank you for your support.

      Dan…er, Anonymous