My journey was a long one, made all the more tedious by the fact it was completed, of necessity, in full darkness and in the most cramped of compartments. But perhaps because I'd spent so many days in such horrid conditions, my eventual arrival was all the more gratifying. I cannot hope to convey to you the joy I experienced when finally I again saw the light of day. And then . . . Oh, heavens be praised! To come face-to-face with the object of my travels! The great man himself, Evil Editor.
I recognized him immediately; how could I not? The pince-nez, the scowl, the glorious muttonchops . . . But would he see me? He looked my way, and yet each time he did, his gaze seemed to focus above me, as if he were admiring my hat. And yet I wore no hat! I knew if I could but catch his eye, just for a moment . . . but alas. It was not to be. He failed to even acknowledge my existence. My journey had come to naught. Truly, it sucks to be the second paragraph in a manuscript sent to Evil Editor.