Killer Deal

The man at the writers exchange told me he had killer deals. I wanted to add to my collection of writers in my basement.
I had no particular preference as long as each one was unique. He brought me into a huge warehouse where dozens of people roamed around aimlessly, hoping for a home.
There's Mandy, he said, pointing t a middle-aged woman. She writes salty poems and naughty limericks. I nodded, impressed. Over there is Sam, who knows everything about writing, but is totally blocked. A good home might get him going again. I wasn't sure about him. I saw another guy who looked stoned. No, that's Frank, a paranormal writer. Very imaginative. Loves humus. Can do the hokey pokey. I shrugged. I asked about another fellow who was crawling around with his butt crack showing, drooling and cackling. That's Joe, the man said. If you want him you'll need a tetanus shot
I said give me him. I'll house train him. He writes flash fiction, the man said. I nodded. One of those..