"I never get time for writing," moaned Sheila. "I spend all my time picking up after you. My life is so boring!"

"Huh," said Gareth. "Swap your problems for mine. I can't see them going away, ever. Sometimes I wish I was dead."

"That can be arranged," said Sheila. "All your problems are inside your head. So all I have to do is remove your head, right?" And she picked up a large, kitchen knife.

Luckily, Gareth managed to run away.

They were very kind at the secure mental hospital, and she had lots of time to write.