What A Dick

Ah yes, libraries: as if having to set foot in one of those sombre buildings full of flatulent, regretful people isn’t trauma enough, having to take a book home from one of them is always a defeating experience. It’s bad enough to think that one previous owner has pawed away at the pages of a book I’m reading. The thought that scores of people might have had their evil way with it is far too much to bear.

Had their evil way with it? Even crazy made up Sh people don’t fuck the books.

(Although, by the way, there is a chance for you to get some romance into the plot by voting here.)

I need a lie down now. I am going to lie down right now, murmuring ‘dick head’ softly under my breath.

I will read my library books.

I will think how wonderful it is to be able to read books for free. I will feel glad that I get to share books with other people and talk about them every day. I will look at my little collection of things that I have found tucked between the pages of library books. Little tokens and extra stories that have fallen unexpected from between the pages as I read. 

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