Three writers were crawling through the desert about to breathe their last when one of them points and gasps: “Look, an oasis.”
“Yes,” said the second writer. “I see five naked women suggesting things and urging me on.”
“I see my wife and two kids with a picnic lunch and a gallon of lemonade,” the first writer said.
They both glanced over at the third writer who was scrambling to write down every word.
“What do you see?” The first writer asks.
“I see my agent telling me to write it all down so he can get his 15 percent when he sells my unfinished memoirs and makes me rich.”
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