To alleviate the dullness of a rainy March, they all decided to write cheesy romance novels featuring each other. Des apprised the others of the fact that one rainy afternoon was not long enough to write an entire novel. Key was undaunted by this, and brazenly asked Larfen J. Stocke, esq. if she could make him the main character. He told her she was cockeyed to make such a suggestion, when the others had already begun writing about Huinesoron.

"You would not want their diligent efforts to be in vain, would you?" he asked her. Key had wanted to write about him quite badly, and was glaring at him as if she intended to eviscerate him.

"I refuse to expunge the idea from my mind," she whispered, "This story will exist, one way or another." Key's whisper had been so gossamer-soft that Larfen J. Stocke, esq. hadn't even heard her.

Since no one had gone so far as to issue an interdiction against it, Key curled up in a corner and began working, alone, on her novel: "Lovin' With Larfen." The title character's curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he glanced over Key's shoulder, hoping her prose would be as mellifluous as her hair, her walk, her voice. . .

Key's writing was certainly striking, in a meretricious sort of way.

Larfen was charmed, however, and brought her such prodigal amounts of paper flowers that she was quite buried by them.