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 had caught on fire. It went up in seconds. Everything is gone. I nearly didn't make it out of the house. Poor Fluffy is gone..."
"Wait! Back up a minute," the man says. "My agent called?"