Every time I hit the letter * on my computer it replaced it with a *. I said, What the heck is going on here?

My wife said, Hold it down in there! You made me knit when I should have *een purling.

I kept cussing my computer and my wife decided to move out on the patio with her knitting.

I decided that someone had programmed my computer so that every time I hit the * key it printed a *.

When you hit a key on our computer and it prints something other than what key is supposed to print you have a macro assigned to your keyboard. For example, when you hit Control * your computer prints in *old.

Well, that was a *ad example. When you hit Control i your computer prints in italics.

Such a macro is called a shortcut. You can have a macro print the Gettysburg Address if you want to. To set up a macro in Word go to Tools, Macro, and follow the instructions. You can also remove a macro there.

I looked for a macro that would print a * when I hit the * key. There was no such macro.

Thats when I yelled, XRYTSPET!

Xrytspet said, Whats up, Taylor Jones, the hack writer?

I turned and she was sitting on the little green stool I have in the corner of my den. I chuck papers on the stool when I need extra desk space. The papers were on the floor and Xrytspet and the stool where in the air. I said, Get down from there you idiot.

Xrytspet de-levitated and drifted down to the floor. She sat on my desk. I said, Youve been messing with my computer again, havent you?

She twitched her nose and said, So?

I said, Youve put a hidden macro assigned to my keyboard in there somewhere. I just cant find the darn thing. Every time I hit the * key I get a *.

She looked at my manuscript. You push the * key and you get a *. What do you expect?

Xrytspet!

She said, Well, dont get so huffy. And dont call me, Idiot. I reserve that term for you.

I said, Xrytspet, are you going to tell me what you did?

She said, It was all for your own good.

I said, I push the * key and I get a *. How can that be for anybodies good? My readers will be confused as hell.

Your readers are as confused as hell.

Thats what she said and it hurt.

I guess I pouted. She said, Its all for your own good Taylor Jones, the hack writer. Its the Chnileieenien Wager.

I said, The what?

The Chnileieenien Wager, she said. The Chnileieeniens are in G23874665530. They are the gamblers of the universe. They bet on everything. Right now they have a wager that at some time each of the over 12,000 writers in your writing pool will hit the * key at the same time. I foiled them by having your computer print a * when you press the * key instead of a *. That will fool them until they figured out what I did. By then the time limit on the wager will have expired.

I said, Im trying to figure out what you did.

So what if we all hit the * key at the same time and print a *.

So what?

She said, Then the Fonlikors from G78899445 will loose their bet to the Chnileieeniens. The Fonlikors are more-than-ugly killers of the universe. They will come in here with their Avglaitors and cut you and all the other writers in your pool into ribbons.

I imagined what an Avglaitor looked like. Probably like one of those electric bread slicer they have in bakeries. I said, When does the wager expire?

She said, 2034.

I said, Why, thank you, Xrytspet!

I can live with the * key printing a * until 2034.

Lets see, Ill only be 102 years old!

The End