Agent Rocket came to the Directorate today, weeping soulfully. She was having a terrible day, and needed extra motivation. “Those horrid VerbHounds are slavering in their pen! Write, or they will feast upon your flesh,” I said, in accordance with Directorate Directive 2.5.11.
But Agent Rocket only wept harder. I tried all the other Beasts at my disposal, working my way down the Checklist, but to no avail. She just wept and wept (and what a ghastly mess she was, too, with her red eyes and runny nose and tear-spotted frock!), no matter how hard I threatened her.
I sighed. “Perhaps I should offer you a carrot, instead of a stick.” Yes, my friends, it’s not in the Directorate manual — but we are known for our unorthodox methods, and when everything else has failed, there is no harm in trying desperate measures.
“I don’t want a carrot,” she wailed. “I want pie!”
I raised my eyebrows, but gave her a slice of warm apple pie with ice cream, and within moments, her sobs had tapered off into mere sniffles. The flirtatious little minx even smiled shyly at the Beastmaster. He was leaning masculinely against the wall, reeking of Beasts and sweat, ready to sling her across his strong, broad shoulders and carry her off to his nasty Beasts; but there was no longer any need for such stern measures, for Agent Rocket set aside her pie plate, picked up her pen, and began to scribble furiously upon the tablecloth.
1. Have some pie. Even if you haven’t earned it; perhaps especially if you haven’t earned it.
2. Once you have stopped wailing about your misfortunes, write.
3. Report below! What kind of pie did you have? What did you write?