A writer and an elephant walked into a room. The elephant sat down in a chair and the writer sat down at the desk and began typing.
When the writer was done, he printed out the pages and placed them on the table, then left the room.
The elephant, read the pages, made some notations and other comments, then laid the pages back on the desk.
The writer came back into the room, read it and either nodded or wadded up the pages and threw them in the trash.
This went on for several weeks, then one day another tenant in the office complex asked the writer what he was doing.
“Working on a book.”
“What’s the elephant for?”
The writer said, “He’s my editor. My agent said if I didn’t hire an editor to help me with my writing, she’d never be able to sell my next book.”
“But an elephant?”
“He comes highly recommended and he works for peanuts.”
The tenant started to laugh, then stopped and asked, “Who recommended him?”
“My agent, the jackass.”
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