"Ectoplasm"

I just finished writing a new story, "Ectoplasm," whose genesis came entirely from the following email conversation.

Pete: I'm doing NaNoWriMo again this year, but I'll be writing a series of short stories instead of a novel.

Fred: Super! Here's a topic for you: a story featuring a fellow who cannot say the word "ectoplasm" without giggling. No need for thanks, really!

Pete: Let's see...is his name Bert, and does he live in Ashtabula, Ohio?

Fred: No, Bert is his brother-in-law; his name is actually 'Bart'. Which I guess does lead to confusion.

Pete:

Ectoplasm, by Peter Anderson
Bart, not be confused (but often confused) with his brother-in-law Bert, lived in Ashtabula, Ohio and was unable to say the word "ectoplasm" without giggling.

Fred: Excellent. Already I want to know more about Bart and whether his peculiar vocabularian quirks are what caused the ever-widening rift between him and Maude and Bert (the latter of which he is easily confused with), a frequent source of unease in the somewhat confining Astabulan country club circles.

Pete: Ashtabula is blue-collar, steel mill country, so I may have to substitute "VFW Hall" for "country club." Poetic license…I'm also relieved to know that Bart is frequently mistaken for Bert, and not for Maude. I'll bet Maude is relieved, as well.

Fred: The only thing I know about Ashtabula is that it's referred to in a Bob Dylan song. "You're Gonna Make Me Lonesome When You Go", I think. Well dammit, now I have to make sure...correct… Hmm, whodathunk it rhymes with "Honolulu"? And yet it does, assuming you pronounce it as the Dylan-esque "Honolulah".

Pete: I can tell you right now that Bart just wandered away from his pipefitter job at the foundry one day, and now works as a jobber, delivering and restocking local groceries and convenience stores with Hostess snack cakes…Hmmm, this is already starting to sound like James Thurber.

Fred: Mmmmmmmmm....Hostess snack cakes..........I could go for a Suzy-Q about now, or even a couple Ho-Hos, wrapped in the thinnest tin-foil you'll ever find.

Pete: And I'll work in the Dylan incongruity as well. (Ashtabula residents amused/dumbfounded that Mr. Z would reference their fair city in song.)

I'm sure that many literary masterpieces, such as Ulysses and The Sound and the Fury, arose from similarly brilliant intellectual conversations.