Last Thursday, fantasy novelist David Eddings was flushing out the gas tank of his busted
Excalibur when he noticed a fluid leaking. "Is the fluid flammable?" he thought. To find out, he lit a piece of paper on fire and
threw it into the puddle of fluid. The answer was yes, and
Eddings burned his own house down, including the car and the original manuscripts of his 27 novels. At least he hasn't lost his keen powers of observation:
"One word comes to mind," the renowned wordsmith said as he stood in a pajama shirt and slippers. "Dumb."
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