1. He just sits there, like a poorly trained and not too interested dawg.
2. While he just sits there, the beginning of an idea slips syrup like into his mind. His left eye blinks slowly and his head tilts slightly to the right. Dis he calls tinking.
3. Drip by doggone drip thoughts emerge from nowhere and run down the inside of pally’s cranium. Dude hovers his hands over a keyboard, waiting for enough drips to make the trip from noggin-land to handville where they will cause his fingers to flex.
4. His post callus digits soon begin doing just that and smallish shimmering letters appear on a screen brighter than the sun and only four inches in front of Dude’s meat hooks.
5. Tap by silly tap, Dude pokes out fifty or sixty words.
6. At first the words are just gobbly-gook, like Dude. Obviously they are tainted and require world-wise warshing.
7. Dude examines the words, trying to decipher what has been written. Boy, it’s fucked! It really makes no sense . . . What, did a baby write this?!
8. Dude molds the letters and shapes the words and stomps hard on some sentences to make them make sense. He changes some words around and uses thesaurus.com like battlefield medics employ a stretcher. (Holy criminy. . . this soldier is beat up bad. . . )
9. After fifteen or twenty minutes of playing single person ping pong with letters, Dude either finishes the tale or gives up. Time to focus on a new kid on account of this current child is boring if it won’t grow up.
10. Any lagging toughts dripping into Dude’s mind about dis fable will be added as dey arrive. He edits as the C’s fit over two or three daze.
11. Somebody says something and . . .
12. Dude’s fingers twitch and he cocks his head.
That’s how its done.