D****t, Jerry

"Really, Jerry?"

"But it's my birthday."

"So, celebrate like a normal person: play hooky from work, get drunk, go party with your friends, but..."

"C'mon, honey..."

"But DON'T... Not when it IS your birthday, and not when it isn't... DON'T..."

And this is the very moment when the writer ran out of words. Perhaps it was the corner he'd written himself into, and perhaps it was the drunken lady outside talking overly loudly about the hoopsketball match on the teevees. In either case, the words were done, and the short story was made shorter still due to a gag that never quite found it's way onto the page.