|Quincy Pickle's "Eel Blood Pon M'Soul"|
"The novel, as we know it, is about to change." Edward Ambergris beamed at the audience before him. They, for their part, squatting uncomfortably on their ricketty wooden chairs, glared back at him with narrowed, yellow eyes. Word had leaked out about what was to be proposed and the air in the lecture hall was thick with anger and dark mutterings.
Edward continued. "The traditional novel is a work of art, steel pages anchored to a granite spine, set in the most exquisite of locations, but consider the drawbacks-"
"There aren't any!" An unseen voice shouted from the audience.