Vonnegut, in the next chapter, makes fun of life for a person as they are aging. They have kids who are all grown up, who never come to visit. They lose old friends that they can not come in contact with. The only companion to them becomes their dog. They drink away their lives and listen to news shows or late night television.

All in all, Vonnegut seems to be just saying: after a certain point in your life, you simply waste away. Days become mundane, more mundane than schools days for students [and teachers].

Vonnegut makes readers life very easy. From the very first page, readers can easily tell it is full of sarcasm.

So, as I said before, the protagonist is trying to write a story about what happened when he was a prisoner of war. He recalls that: "The best outline I ever made, or anyway the prettiest one, was on the back of a roll of wallpaper. I used my daughter's crayons, a different color for each main character. One end of the wallpaper was the beginning of the story, and the other end was the end, and then there was all that middle part, which was the middle." [6-7]

The fact that he HAS to mention that the best outline he ever made of his story was "the prettiest" seems to make it all fickle. Where it has been drawn seems almost unbelievable. I mean for one thing, an author who has an important story would not have written the backbone of their story onto something so perishable. Assuming of course, this roll of wallpaper was going to be in use. Using his daughter's crayons, again, downplay the significance of the event he is trying to tell the audience. It all seems like it's child's play. There is nothing serious about it. As a reader, I'm thinking that maybe he's not even trying to write a story about Dresden. Maybe he is but is blocking out the memories because there's some secret horror behind it.