Although it wasn't even 30 degrees, I set up the floating bookshop today, as the wind was negligible. Unfortunately, only my buddy, retired salesman Morty, stopped by to chat. He turned 75 a few days ago. He'd taken a header earlier while running to catch the bus. He dislocated his thumb. Hardcore old-timer that he is, he popped it back into place himself. He was lucky. He had only a cut at the bridge of his nose and some bruises on his forehead. At that age a fall can result in far worse.
Well, neither the made man or the actor would give in, so what was probably my final playing card in trying to get the MM's story into influential hands has reached a dead end. I think both lose. Mike, the actor, is swamped with scripts, most of them dubious. I guess he suspects this is probably another and does not want to risk being hounded by someone who might be dangerous. The MM has a great story, but he must take risks to have it heard. After all, if it is truly his, no one can steal it.
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