“Empty” characterizes my efforts at the E entry. I tossed around eggs, electric eels, and a parable illustrating that those who are

Early to bed and are early to rise

are the same people who’ll be

Early to die if they only eat fries

I’ve dropped all three. Instead, I relate the tale of Heenry Dollins, the son of my Vietnamese barber’s scissor sharpener. Heenry was born with only one “e”. As a young boy, he— no, I’ll save this story for a later time, after I conjure up Heenry’s adolescence and a crafty story of how he acquired his second “e”. Right now I don’t care to be reminded by my computer’s red dot underline that Heenry is not a recognized word. Obviously it doesn’t want to hear the story either.

It’s become clear that the commonest letter of the English alphabet will not cooperate with DCO.

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