This is a short story. I love the tales of Stephen King, and hope this is a worthy tribute to his freakish ability to pants the hell out of the written word. Also a thank you to the King for The Plant, which forged a revolution in the publishing industry.
Autorentext
DM was raised by Baldreth, a member of the benevolent race known as the Zarnacians. Unfortunately accused of high treason for genetically altering his auricular canal, DM's punishment involved banishment from the Vorax galaxy via the method of micro-particlization. Next they shot him through a beam-cannon toward Norvik, or 'Earth' as its natives call it. DM resides here today in hopes of building a path to his home world of Necron by combining Human and Zarnacian DNA, the old fashioned way. Okay, okay. Maybe that's not *exactly* true... but if you want to get the REAL story you can head on over to http://www.dmwoolston.com to get more. D̶̡̡̯̜̼̹̗͓̹̠̩̿̒̆͜.̶̻̩͓̙̄̈̌̿̓̿̇̽̽͘͝M̴̬̪͍͖̯͙̙̹̺̊͐͒̄ͅ.̶̧̗͓̣̘͓͈̀̾̉̔̚ ̸̧̡̠͚̳̳̘̲͎̮̭̗͆̈́̄̂̀̋̀͋̀̂̒͝͠W̶̨̡̻̼̮̠̼̝̯̊̒̈́́͐̚͘ͅͅo̵̲̭̓̓͆͋̀̊͒̈͘͠o̴̧͙̝̱͌̎̾̈́͗̕l̵̯̭̤̽̽̓͛͌͗͛̚s̶̱͔͎̹͇͍͎͎̗̘̯̱̯̬̻̈́̇͗́̑͝t̵̪͓͒õ̶̙̦̥͉̞̪͇͉̱̩̗̲͐́͐̔̋̃̌ͅͅñ̵̲̙͎̪̣̰̯̠͚͕̲̈́̉͘̚ ̸̡̨̢̻͉̺̞̖͖̜͍̤͎̯̰̽͛
Klappentext
What does Mr. King have to do with recent changes in the traditional publishing industry?