A screenwriter comes home to a burned down house. His sobbing and slightly singed wife is standing outside.
“What happened, honey?” the man asks.
“Oh, John, it was terrible,” she weeps. “I was cooking, the phone rang. It was your agent. Because I was on the phone, I didn’t notice the stove was on fire. It went up in second. Everything is gone. I nearly didn’t make it out of the house. Poor Fluffy is – ”
“Wait, wait. Back up a minute,” the man says. “My agent called?