You can write, but you can’t tell people the lies they want to hear, yet…to be in this business you must emote fool’s gold! says the old writer to the younger one… You're good, very good, but I see you're not getting what you want, and why? Because you haven't sold your soul... You've never gotten on your knees, and prayed to the Devil themselves or anyone, any god, whoever is listening, to give you what you have worked so hard to deserve, but that day is coming soon. You may cherish this time, when you are young and still imagine you’ve something profound to say... Go on, for now is the time to waste words, while you still think audiences actually listen to them… A day will arrive when you will kneel on the floor of your tiny 8X10 apartment, offering up anything in exchange for just a taste of that evil others you’re certain others enjoy, o…such sweet fruit it must be! And when at last you’ve had enough, after you realize there will be no reward for a hard day’s work, then it will come… the Faust pact paperwork in the mail for you to sign. And if you don’t immediately prick your finger, and give the specified three drops to your inkwell right upon the spot…if you won’t forgo a lawyer, and forfeit your rights to a final cut, you don't want it bad enough! And then what will be thy Lord, the demon’s name? For now, I’ll offer you my calling card... I’m called the Blue Flame.