Propelling page eighty-six she yelled, "You can't do this to me. I have rights!"
The publisher/editor/proof-reader called back, "Think of Rossini."
"Composer. Barber Of Seville. William Tell. Only way to make him write."
Finally, page three hundred and four fell, followed by a loud thud.
The publisher/editor/proof-reader smiled. "Perfect. A tragic suicide. Now we can market the book as well."