At the Meatloaf Writers Conference, famous authors call each other by nicknames and speak in complacent ironies.
A homeless man sneaks into the conference to get some food. He has blood stains on his soggy garments.
Security escorts him out. He says, "There must be some mistake. I write! And where's the meat loaf?"
A famous editor floats by in khakis and top-siders. He knows exactly how to behave. He knows exactly what to say. He says nothing about the small disturbance--Security with homeless man. How very strange!
The famous editor encounters some very old dear friends indeed. Longtime shadows groan because they know he is about to tell a story. A practiced story--well balanced, appropriate, and well capitalized. Everything is as it has always been.