I’m glad they’re still free, though, together or not. In my daydreams, the Americans got their way, and I’m strapped to a metal cot with a needle brimming with death inserted into my arm. Aubrey, Danae, and Warren have somehow sneaked in, and watch from the bleachers as the poison is pumped into my system. Danae smiles, but I don’t know why. Does she miss me? Does she wish it were her finger on the plunger? But my last conscious image is of her smile, and whatever its intent, it is a glorious thing.
And there you have it. The summary of the rest of my life. There’s no point in writing any more about it. Every day is so similar to the last as to make no discernible difference. A pleasing routine is now the norm for the rest of my life. I don’t lack for companionship, I get regular exercise, and as for women, I can’t claim to miss them, as the drugs they’ve got me on are so powerful that sex would be an impossibility were it to ever cross my mind, which it rarely does, due in large part to the aforementioned drugs. Every day is waking up, getting dressed, having breakfast, working in the library, writing reviews, and reading for three or four hours before slumber claims me. Bliss.
When I do feel an itch for something beyond the routine, I answer fan mail. There were only a few at first, but every week the pile grows a little larger. People asking for advice on what to read, and more and more often, what to burn. I don’t want to frighten you, but there’s something happening out there. I can feel it in my bones. Mark my words, people are gathering. In basements and apartments and public parks. They finally feel an itch they didn’t know they had, so long have they ignored it. But it itches now, worse than ever. It’s in a place they cannot scratch. On the advice of co-workers, they buy the latest bestseller, and they are overcome with hives. There’s only one cure for this allergy. It’s tentative at first, a tearing of a corner. Many will laugh at themselves, and shrug at their silliness. It’s only a book. Not worth getting upset over. But some will do more than tear. They will rend. They will shred. They will mince. Grind. Crumple. Split.
And in the end, they will burn. They will remember us, and think we were on to something. They will seek out others of their ilk, and congregate, and prepare lists of members, and start newsletters and blogs and zines. It will grow beyond the ability to control itself. It will spread. It’s the new flu. Monkey flu. People will be helpless once infected.
And I will stay here, in the pen, and read, because it is what I was born to do. On sunny days in the spring, I will choose a novel from my personal stash, and go for a walk in the yard. My neck will ache from looking down at the book in my hands, but it’s a pain I enjoy. The wind will pick up, and a familiar scent will take me back to happier times. Somewhere, out on the far side of the mortar and grout of walls now so familiar to me I cannot easily recall the world that exists beyond, someone is setting fire to a Barbara Cartland.
And I will envy them their freedom, and wish them well.
From The Associated Press
BOOKSELLERS REPORT RECORD THEFTS
In what is becoming a disturbing trend for the big box bookstores, American large-chain bookstores have reported a huge surge in incidents of shoplifting for the third quarter in a row.
“Frankly, we’re stumped, and the higher-ups are very worried,” said a middle manager of a Washington Borders who spoke on assurance on anonymity. “Books are flying off the shelves lately. For every person we catch, we must lose at least twenty hardcover novels. They’re very brazen. One woman we caught had six paperbacks hidden in her pantyhose. It’s almost an epidemic.
“We know why it’s happening, but we are forbidden to talk about it. It’s almost a police state, it’s gotten so bad.If we so much as utter the words ‘Shelf Monkey,’ even as a joke, we are given a verbal reprimand.’
In one extreme instance, an Oakland Borders store was the scene of a bizarre flash mob as over fifty people swarmed the store and managed to make off with every copy of the works of authors Dan Brown and Robert James Waller in the space of four minutes. The books were then doused with lighter fluid and set ablaze in the store parking lot.
When reached for comment, Thomas Friesen, currently incarcerated as one of the ringleaders behind the now-infamous Shelf Monkey gang, was overcome with laughter and had to be sedated.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Surprise debut at number one
Author strikes up correspondence with fugitive
Munroe Biopic Announced
Talk-show host to visit canada
Munroe purvis fugitive identified
Munroe mania comes to canada
Manhunt comes to violent end
Epilogue
Booksellers report record thefts
Shelf Monkey Page 29