The Library

 

At the library my call slip was returned as if the material could not be found. I was instructed to speak to a librarian. What the library staff did not realize was that this item consisted of the actual body of the author squished down into a paper box and placed on a shelf in a remote area of the stacks. Presumably when retrieved, the author himself would spring out like a Jack-in-the-Box and recite his text to the reader. This particular author was named Walter. Walter was alcoholic. When you go to the library it’s a good idea to take a bottle of wine with you.

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