And Bubby Makes Four

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We change displays at the liberry ever month, so we’ve bid adieu to Real Men Read Fiction. One of the new displays is Summer Is Sweet, maintained by La Friend. It’s an excuse to showcase dessert cookbooks. You can well imagine that I was in the mood for dessert after a few hours working the desk in its presence on Friday. I asked Persepolis if it would be okay to have ice cream for dinner. She didn’t see a problem with it.

Late that afternoon I realized I’d fucked up big. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice to say I spent seventeen hundred library dollars when I maybe shouldn’t have. I had given the go-ahead to purchase a database that we probably can’t use. This realization came to me directly after five o’clock, promptly after the bigwigs had gone home. My boss Melvil wasn’t there to tell me how to fix everything.

With no further ado, I upgraded my dinner plans to Ice Cream and Beer.

Upon further reflection, I realized I was being foolish. I therefore changed my dinner plans one more time, to mudslides. This involved ice cream, vodka, and Kahlua, and it explains why this entry didn’t get posted last night. I tried, really I did, but there came a point where typing was beyond my capacity.

So let me bring you up to speed. I have a new cat. Call him Beelzebub, or Bub, or Bubby. I would introduce you, but he’s very shy. I would take pictures of him, but I don’t have batteries for my digital camera and I am too cheap to pay the picture fees to Verizon. I have a shiny new red phone because I’ve sold my soul to the devil for two more years.

The reason I have Bub is because I am a sucker, and because my coworker Nebudchadnezzar has questionable morals. Apparently he thinks his girlfriend is more important than his cat. I’ve met her, she’s nice, she had the same sophisticated response to Pirates of the Caribbean 3 that I had (“I don’t get it”), but I ask you, how can any woman be more important than a cat?

So Nebudchadnezzar made the unconscionable decision to give up his cat so that he could move in with his girlfriend, who is dangerously allergic to pets. His only saving grace is that the cat went to someone he knew, rather than a stranger.

I really am a sucker. I wouldn’t have done it, but his fur is the correct color scheme and his name fits with the nefarious theme. Beelzebub is a dark Siamese-looking kitty; Goblin is a dark tortie; and Gremlin is pitch black.

Bub has been here for a week now. He spends most of his time asleep on my bed. He hisses if the girls get too close, but the definition of “too close” has changed from “in the same house” (a week ago) to “right up next to each other” (this evening).

And now for something completely different:

Alyosha and I have been writing abridgments on the liberry’s book blog. I am re-posting mine here. You should also read Alyosha’s hysterical abridgment of The Da Vinci Code.

Here are the three abridgments I’ve done so far:

Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte

Mr. Rochester: I’m pretending I don’t like you.

Jane: I’m pretending I don’t like you, either.

Mr. Rochester: Oh what the heck, let’s get married.

Minister: And do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?

Fate: Not so fast, champ. Anything you want to confess, Mr. Rochester?

Mr. Rochester: No. Well… okay, technically I’m already married to a crazy woman whom I keep captive in the attic, but don’t hold it against me. It could happen to anyone.

Jane: I’m outta here.

[Time passes]

Mr. Rochester: Fortunately, my wife died. Let’s get married.

Jane: I didn’t want to marry my cousin anyway.

The End

The Silence of the Lambs, by Thomas Harris

Starling: I’m in the FBI. I hate criminals.

Lecter: I eat people.

Starling: Ew.

Lecter: But I’m really sexy. Anthony Hopkins plays me in the movie.

Starling: I’m sexy in the movie, too. Jodie Foster plays me.

Lecter: Rarrrow.

Starling: You can’t trick me with your mind games.

Lecter: Did I mention I’m also debonair, suave, and erudite?

Starling: Fine, I have this amazing crush on you. But I’ll never admit it.

Lecter: Yes you will, in the next book.

The End

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy



Boy: I’m hungry.

Man: Don’t eat anyone.

Boy: Everyone else is doing it.

Man: That’s because they are bad, whereas we are good. [Dies]

Other Man: No, we are not all bad. Come join my family and we will live happily ever after, insofar as that is possible in a
McCarthy novel, which it’s not.

The End.

And finally, because Marian the Librarian specifically requested it, I present all new material, never before published!

The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky

Dmitri: I’m the drunk and likable one.

Ivan: I’m the smart and cynical one.

Alyosha: I’m a pussy.

All: Our dad’s dead.

Father Wossname: Religion and philosophy are important.

[Re-read these same five lines continuously until you’ve reached the equivalent of 1200 pages.]

The End


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