I am getting so forgetful these days, I have to ask you, “Which avatar am I? I forgot!…I’m so confused!

I took to sitting on the couch with a shawl wrapped around my hunched shoulders, emailing my friends to solicit ideas that I could no longer form on my own. “You scratch my back, and I’ll scratch yours,” I pleaded, but they would politely refuse, knowing I was no longer capable of exchanging an idea of any value to them.

I tried to kid myself that I could once again earn a coveted Best Answer. “What does it matter if I answer and it takes much of my time? It is not the writing ability…. it is “who” will answer!” I thought to myself. I was sure my old friends would remember me, and throw me a bone, but I was only deluding myself.

The final insult came one day when I even forgot my identity. “Which avatar am I? I forgot! . . . I’m so confused!” I had finally sunk into the last stages of literary geezer-dom.

I understand that they’re working on a cure for this affliction, which is beginning to spread as story writers age. Scientific experiments are being conducted on the hundred monkeys that might write “War and Peace” on typewriters, given enough time. They’ve code named the project “Cloning for points.”