I'm sitting in the V. living room, watching TV and holding a guitar. I start playing with the music on TV and notice I'm doing pretty well. I look out the window. There is some ornate kind of thing out there that I was making. Some older man, semi-bald, was inspecting it. He wasn't too sure what it was. My mother comes in with the mail. She hands me two pieces. "Is this all I got?" I ask. "Yes," she says, putting an advertisement piece on the back of the couch. I look at the first envelope in my lap, a white one I'd sent a play script out in. The return address was "ugh revue." The stamps were placed randomly all over the front of the envelope. "Hum," I thought, "a rejection letter. Wonder how they worded it and if they have anything encouraging to say?" I feel OK about it because it was an inferior company, so it didn't matter anyway. The next envelope is an advertisement piece and I wonder if it's the same as my parents'. I see it's from "Business Manager" and realize it's not like my parents'. It has a rip (tried to spell tear/tare) in the front and I lift up the torn part and find a ball point pen with a writing end on both ends. A pencil is the same way, sharpened on both ends. I open a tube and at first think there's candy in it, but then I pull out one pretty red high heel shoe with a red and navy blue bow on the front. I like it and realize it's totally useless as is because it's only one shoe, not a pair. "How clever," I think. "How much insurance will I have to buy to get the second shoe?" The ad read something like, "Don't be half covered, get full protection."