"I didn't get a chance to read his revision," I defended myself. Starr had grabbed it off my desk as he went through. "I told Planter the Kiriki were good guys, not bad guys."
"Good guys, bad guys!" Starr cried. "How naive can we be. Let us hope that our readership is on a different intelligence level, otherwise our great plan will fail miserably."
It was the way he said it, and I don't think he meant to. He was mad and the fact that my dialog had lapsed to comic book levels gave him the idea, perhaps, that I was too dumb to worry about. There had been other hidden meanings behind other things he'd said or done. My subconscious mind was working on it.
"What plan is that?" I ventured mildly.
"Never mind! Get busy on this—this libel."
My left eye twitched. "Okay. I'll change it myself. I know Planter's style. By the way, when am I getting that secretary you promised me? My desk's flooded. I need a girl bad."
"Ah, yes." It was supposed to be a smile, I guess. "Very soon. Meanwhile, kindly fill out this form."
I took it without comment and went back to my office. This made altogether the fifth form Starr had dreamed up for me to fill out. Must be some weird complex he had, wanting to know what color socks I prefer and if my mother kept goats.
Anyhow, I grinned, as I grabbed up the phone and dialed Ric Planter's number, it gave Starr ideas for my Christmas presents for the next twenty years.