. . . as the madman sat in his office, fingers poised above the keyboard. Rain streamed down in torrents upon the windows and a sliver of moonlight shone through the glass, illuminating the autographed photo of John Gotti that sat in it's place of prominence at his right hand.
Gazing at the picture lovingly, the lunatic shook his head "so misunderstood" he muttered to himself ruefully. Thunder crashed over-head as he continued to rack his brain for inspiration. The "writer" stood then, hands in his hair and began to pace back and forth across the room in frustration.
His eyes moved to an opposing wall where a family tree had been drawn, red X-marks gleefully inked across all of the branches save two - - Tracy and Edward.
"Ah-ha!" he cried, as lightening struck above him "I've got it" he shouted scurrying back to his computer, fingers flying furiously.
"Edward Quartermaine will be the perpetrator of my next horrifically violent non-sweeps "event", huzahh - - I am a genius!" he thought to himself as he typed quickly.
"Not only will this be another one of my truly ground-breaking, visionary, and Emmy-winning stories, but the next time some whining viewer complains that Sonny and Jason are too violent, I'll just remind them that Edward once mowed down an entire carnival full of pregnant women and young children - - that'll shut them up for sure, and if it doesn't - - I'll off Edward next. Take that you unimaginative General Hospital purists!"
The man stood once again and strode over to his phone, dialing the number he knew by heart "Brian, it's me - - I've saved the day once again, that repeat Emmy for Best Writing is in the bag next year!"
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