The old typewriter had a mind of its own. But not an educated one.
It came from the estate of Madam Petulengro. According to the local press, she was once a noted psychic and medium. She earned a living channeling voices from the great beyond, the spirit world, so I theorized the typewriter must be haunted by one of her spirits.
It didn’t write with spirit. I had estimated it typed at a second grade level; including misspellings, typos, grammar and punctuation.
So I guessed it wouldn’t be making me rich and famous by ghost-writing great literature, after all.