Bound on Unicorn Skin Paper

This morning (it's always morning, isn't it? Never evening- unless you're the president or dictator of a country, in which case the news comes to you first so you can vet it. I did this myself during my term as the President of The Land Of The Chosen- a small island I created sometime in the mid-2000s where only the truly beautiful could live- eventually we closed the island after being mistaken for "God's chosen people", which is not the same thing at all as Karl's chosen people. God is a small fry. Buddha is the Yamamoto of religion, no? Yet the weight problem-)

Where was I? Well. I received an email from a young man named "Kevin" and the general gist of his email was that he has made my novel vanish from the popular web-site "Smashwords". I rang him up. I even dotted in the numbers myself.
"Hello", I said.
"Hello" said Kevin.
"You have made my book vanish"
"Well, sir, your book was improperly formatted"
"It was formatted to how I wanted it"
Kevin sighed. "Sir, your books must be formatted according to the Smashwords guidelines. Imagine if men wore skirts! And women wore pants!"
"The only reason I do not wear skirts is because I would look like my mother", I said. "But not all men look like their mothers. Do you look like your mother?"
"I don't believe so, sir. I have a beard"
"That is irrelevant"
"I think it's fairly relevant"
"Is it relevant if you put the emphasis on the first beat or second beat of your walk?"
"I don't think I understand the question"
I sighed. "Don't you understand?" I said. "The point is, some people put the emphasis on the first beat of their walk- CLIP-clop, and others on the second- clop-CLIP. Do you discriminate toward the clop-CLIPers?"
"No-" said Kevin, stroking his beard like the answer might perhaps be in it, somewhere.

I hung up. I cannot tolerate stupidity. I called Henerana, my Swedish assistant. She is very tall, Henerana. I asked her to bind the pages of the novel on the unicorn-skin paper I had made and make a cover out of the remnants of her soul.
"Of course" she said. I tossed her the remaining half of the novel- my mother always told me that Ms. Wharton would do this- tossed her assistant the pages of the novel in no particular order. I thought it was a marvelous idea.