Enter CHARLIE.
He sits at the computer, logs on, and then stares momentararily at the screen, as if thinking. Before long, he starts typing:

hello everybody...
what's this i see...
hmm... i am not happy... why do i see my life sensationalized... of all places... on my very own tagboard...?
i thank fate and fortune for the friends i have...
enough to start a tabloid and challenge The New Paper with...
bloody...

Enter FATHER.
CHARLIE stops typing and briefly, dialogue ensues. Little can be heard, and all that one may make out of the conversation are the mild gestures that FATHER makes, often referring to the computer, and the noncommittal nods from CHARLIE. Though seemingly distant, the two speak with an aloofness bred from familiarity.
exit FATHER
CHARLIE resumes typing:

well thank you everybody for giving me a taste of what's life like as a superstar and seeing my own name splashed across...
well i can't say the tabloids can i...?
err... well...
my blog...
got half a mind to just remove my tagboard...
the other half's asleep... so we'll just wait for it to be rid of slumber...

anyway... i got tired of putting this post into a script... so there...
dump that stupid idea...

let's see now... we've dealt with prose... in my regular posts...
poetry... in that disastrous post that day...
and drama... well sort of...

i am done with creative writing for the rest of my life...

yes i know i've said that before... but now it's final...

haha... who am i kidding...?

ah well...
'nighty people...
and yes that other half a mind awoke...