You could say he was alphabetically challenged.
He began typing, as follows.
The man sat in the car in his driveway for a while, just thinking. He’d drunk too much, that was for sure. He was lucky to get home without being pulled over. He sat looking at the house across the street, wondering how things had come to this. He was so tired. Another burp. Simply burping made him tired. If he lied to those people over there it would get him off the hook, but he’d lose money. He knew there was bad feeling between them all, but most of it was racial tension, and that had done nothing to help the situation.
Then it happened, the fettered writer deleted the entire paragraph and slipped into the ‘ABC’ mode, and started over…
Another belch caused dreadful exhaustion. Financial gain had inhibited just knowingly lying. Mistrusting neighbours opposite; poor quality respect starting tension. Useless vexation was xenophobia, yielding zilch.
“That’s better,” he whispered.