Delilah read my story and said, “You call that writing? You stole your idea from that book you told me Toby’s been reading to you!”
I think she’s just sore because she has such a small part in the story.
I asked uncle Harold what he thought.
“oh, that’s why it all seemed so familiar!” he said. “I don’t know, Howie, you might want to be sure it’s okay with your editor to–”
“Steal?” I said.
“Ask your editor,” he told me.
Great. Now I’m a thief!