I Knew of a Man

I knew of a writer who had to take the job as a kitchen cleaner as no one wanted to publish his work mind, he always had clean fingernails, when he sat late at night composing words no one in the world would ever bother to read. When it became clear to him, he was an exercise in futility, he quit his job grew a beard and his fingernails grow long and dirty. Crossing a bridge, he was about to jump but was stopped by his inner police officer who said it was against the law. He had to write is own way and not imitate the famous writers of the past and since he didn`t have any style, took a long hot bath and got a job as a security guard guarding tractors. He doesn`t write anymore but waits for his style of writing to show him how, because he saw no point of writing for the pleasure of it.