We writers usually come from a pile of wet wood and a single spark.

We writers usually have to rewrite our history, our rules, our families.

We writers usually must leave behind the family we have created with our own two hands, and go out, alone, to find our own destinies.

We writers then start to climb the ladder of success, searching on each rung for something special.

And as we climb we write our lives out on ripped-out notebook paper.

Once we have found the giver of our destiny they hand us a pile of cardboard and a roll of duct tape, and with these materials we run to the hills and tell the world what we think of it.

We writers then wright ourselves a scrub brush and clean the world of all grit and grime, and while we work we sing:

Dear Earth, we shall make you more beautiful than you already are. We shall rid the world of all evil.

We writers shall rewrite the world.