You wake up in your cabin in the woods. You sit up and scratch some fleas that have infested your body. You also realize its still daylight. You hate waking up early.

You lope into the bathroom and look in the mirror where you see a canine face covered in gray fur, you remember a time when your fur was completely brown.

“You’re getting old Wolf” you say to yourself like you always do while trying to look on the bright side that at least you don’t have the mange. You think you’d just put a silver bullet in your head if you ever started to go bald.

After eating some left over mutton in the fridge and some Gummy Blobs (for the sugar “pick me up”) you ponder how you’re going to pay this month’s rent on your cabin. You call your agent Erik and see if that little pissant has found any work for you. Hopefully it’s an actual job and not just a guest speaker spot at a comic convention.

“Erik! It’s me Wolf! Pick up the fucking phone! I know you’re there!” you say when you get the answering machine.

“Erik! Get on the phone NOW, or I’m gonna go over there and shove a pipe organ up your ass!”

That got his attention.

“Wolf, I’m sorry, but I fear I’m in a deep depression.”
“What else is new? Look I need some work, got anything? I don’t even care if it’s straight to video. I just need some of the green stuff!”
“Sadly, I don’t think I do, but then I haven’t really checked…I’m so depressed. I’ve been wondering if I made the right decisions in my life…and now it’s too late for me to do anything about it, because I’m old…”
“Join the fucking club Erik! Look do you…”
“But my art, my music, that is my love and its failing me again. My latest opera isn’t doing well. I wonder if I chose the wrong thing to love and pursue. Just like I did with Christine. Oh Christine WHY couldn’t you have loved me? I loved you…”

Wonderful, he’s in full blown tortured artist mode. He can go on like this forever. You can either give up, or persist in getting something out of him.