Helvetica (the German wench, who's beautiful, but doesn't know it) sighed as she stomped the grapes for the wine that may or may not be made. If Gutenberg stopped drinking words and eating dreams, then it could all go back to normal..

Helvetica sighed, but louder, and looked over at the brand new printing press covered by a white sheet. stroking her long and lustrous blonde(?) hair when she heard a knock on the front door of Gutenbergs Wine Shop™.

"Who is it..."