Scene: The newsroom.
Time: On deadline.
Dramatis Personnae: Myself, and the Composing Room.
I dial the number for the Composing Room.
CR (yelling): TALK TO ME!
Me: Kill 4A! I need to redo it!
CR: 4A? 4A? I DON'T HAVE 4A!
Me: Well, you're about to, I just sent it, but when it gets there, kill it.
Me: KILL IT! JUST KILL IT!
CR: YOU GOT IT! 4A, TO BE KILLED!
We both hang up, chew on our cigars, and look out the windows at the thrumming hive that is The City.