Wednesday, September 19, 2012

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 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.