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Dudley

Dudley bursts into the director’s office, panting. “Just came from the cuh. Coroner’s office, ma’am! C-cause of death was acute graphragmia!”

The director’s lips move for a second, then her eyes go wide. “Writer’s block,” she says. “Quick onset?”

“Yes,” Dudley manages.

“Contagious?”

Dudley’s face says it first.

The director stabs the intercom. “Get me the CDC. Get the Surgeon General. Hell, get me the Joint Chiefs!”

“Can we beat it, ma’am?” asks Dudley.

“This doesn’t leave the room, Dudley,” says the directory grimly. “But if we don’t have to resort to the nuclear option, I’ll call it a win.”

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