"Ok, ok...almost there...you got this, man, this is you. (Looks in mirror). This is YOU! (He points at himself). Ok, focus. The book is definitely sad, but it isn't sad enough. You have worse shit in you, man, I know it.  YOU can do better. People are going to LOVE this. CHICKS, yeah, chicks are gonna love this. They'll come a flockin'. I want people in tears by 10, my wang in something fleshy by 11. And it's all about the ending, baby. And I'm gonna be right there for comfort. To comfort the bitches.
           Alright, so she's got Alzheimer's. Bam. Sad as shit. No one like's Alzheimer's. And uh, ok...she doesn't even remember who her husband is! NOICE! Beautiful. SO many chicks. Holy shit. Ok, focus. So she's got Alzheimer's, and it's just over. But Alzheimer's isn't enough. It's just not, these days. Need more. (Looks in the mirror again). Who are you, Howie fucking Day? Yeah? What are you, just a cheap pop song writer? No. No way, man. You wrote Message in a Bottle, he wrote motherfucking Collide. Uh, Nicholas 1, Howie 0, right? Right? You're damn right. You are Nicholas fucking Sparks! And you're gonna be swimming in vagina when this is done. SWIMMING. Howie Day's gonna call and he's gonna be like "Uh, yeah, Nicholas? Um, wanna lend me some bitches?" Cuz you know why? Cuz I'm gonna have 'em. Yeah. Plenty.
           We got Alzheimer's. Ok. But the whole story...ok, get this: the whole story is them. It's them growing up. It's their whole love story. And...ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod...THAT'S why he's reading it in the first place! To get her to remember! (slams fist on the desk) Hot FUCKING Damn! I'm gonna have to change my number! I'm going to have to run a brothel out of my bedroom! I won't be able to satisfy that many bitches! Ok, maybe I will - cuz I'm Nicholas Sparks.
           Ok, so she flips out when she realizes, and they're both crying right now because they can't control their shit! Who could? Because this is a love story. This is a love story that makes Casablanca look like Honey I Blew Everybody. And at this point, the whole room's in tears, and it's over. It's just over. Girls are waiting to sit on my face. In a line. Taking numbers. Reading magazines in the interim. Magazines that write articles about how many bitches I slay.
           She's in the hospital, and this is it, it's over. And the husband just wants to be with her, and they're just gonna both die. Bam. Doesn't matter that the husband is in fine health otherwise, cuz he's fucking dead, and I'm fucking laaaaaaaiiiidddd. Oh, man, bitches are just going to turn on their penis detectors and set it for 'Nicholas Sparks' by the time that...

Nicholas Sparks's wife: Honey? Did you say something?

Nicholas: Hmm? Nope, you were just dreaming. Go back to sleep, darling. Lovvvvvve youuuuuuuu!!