Thursday, July 20, 2006

Susan and Gregory Read a Book

Gregory and Susan had been dating for over a year and Gregory still hadn’t finished reading Susan's favorite book, even though he'd seemed so interested in her description of it when they first met and had promised to promptly read it.

It bugged Susan for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

One night after Gregory fell asleep, Susan took it off his nightstand, where it had sat for months, gathering dust. She read the last few pages and like always, they made her smile and cry. She pressed it flat against her chest, liking the feel of its weight. She gently rolled her chin back and forth across the shallow channel of the pages between the front and back covers, and ran her finger up the soft, wrinkled spine, worked flimsy with age but still hanging on.

It was a wonderful book, Susan affirmed to herself. What a shame Gregory had made so little effort to get through the slightly slower chapters at the beginning to where it really started getting good. And the worst part was that he refused to admit he couldn't or wouldn't read it--no, he was content to just let it sit on his nightstand as if he really did want to, if only he could find the time in his oh-so-busy schedule of temp work and watching televised sports.

"Oh well, his loss." Susan thought to herself as she stretched over to return the book to its dust-outlined resting place on his bedside stand.

Then suddenly something snapped, and on a whim, she beat him to death with it. When the twitching finally stopped, Susan sat down beside his oozing corpse and read every word out loud. When she reached the end, she read it again, and again and again... It was days before their friends got worried and kicked down their door to see what was wrong. What they saw when they reached the bedroom, haunts them to this day.

13 Comments:

At 1:38 AM, Blogger 12 Crumble Ave said...

A cautionary tale if ever I heard one, the message being don't have friends who will only check up on you after a few days, this in unacceptable and I expect my friends to be checking every half hour just in case of possible book beatings / readings.

That said I sure wouldn't mind Carly asking me to read her favourite book, and you'd better the darned sure I'd give it a go and watch the movie and buy the cliff notes and really, really try to get past the first page...

Next time I sneak into her room I must try and locate her favourite book, you know - just in case...

- Toledo

 
At 1:55 AM, Blogger Sam, Problem-Child-Bride said...

"...and had promised to promptly read it. It bugged Susan for reasons she couldn't quite explain."

I've guessed what might have bothered Susan. As a fellow woman I think I've fathomed what might have unconsciously nudged her towards her murderous rage.

Gregory split his infinitive whilst promising "to promptly read" the book. Ah, and 'twasn't it always the way. Women know that once a man splits the infinitive, he will surely then also break her heart and it will be rent from its stringy attachments and bob around in a surgically unfixable way. It was only a matter of time. Any jury in the land will see it was just a pre-emptive strike and we're comfier with them these days.

"If the infinitive was split, you must aquit" her lawyer will argue and will no doubt also try to play the library card.

 
At 4:19 AM, Anonymous Nicolas Papaconstantinou said...

Nowt so smart to say as them others.

Except our never-read book was Don Quixote.

And that's a big-ass book.

And she was prone to psychotic bouts of violence.

I really thought you were going somewhere soft-hearted, sad and beautiful with this one. But no. It was a horror story.

Thankyou as always, Latigo, for the sudden change in pace!

 
At 8:47 AM, Blogger slarrow said...

So what was the book? "To Kill a Mockingbird"? "Crime and Punishment"? "Murder on the Orient Express"?

'Cause if it's one of those, then Gregory was forewarned. But if it's a generic chick lit book, then there's no warning, and any of us could be in danger.

This is information your readers need, Latigo. We want to live. (Well, the male ones anyway; maybe the female ones just want to kill.)

 
At 11:03 AM, Blogger Cindy-Lou said...

I'm that way with my favorite movie, It's a Wonderful Life. Have you seen it, Latigo?

 
At 2:07 PM, Blogger Helga von porno said...

Fucking hell that was savage and true! Almost outshone the humour.

 
At 3:57 PM, Blogger hen said...

Ahh - Latigo.. I had forgotten what a blogging God you really are.

 
At 5:16 PM, Blogger OldHorsetailSnake said...

And the next sentences are?

Try this: "She was back to square one. So they beat her to death with a squinty-eyed portico."

 
At 2:46 PM, Blogger Ari said...

If it was Catcher in the Rye, I don't blame Gregory. Not one bit. It may have been worth dying a bloody death, even.

 
At 9:10 PM, Blogger talulah trashbag said...

I once had an eerily similar disagreement over Hop on Pop.

 
At 9:06 PM, Blogger Amandarama said...

Mr. Scoop reads the books I recommend him. He's very lucky that way.

More importantly, Mr. Scoop was the fella who recommended that I read you. It's worked out well for all of us I think. Especially since I haven't been bludgeoned by a tower computer.

 
At 4:39 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

Indeed Toledo, indeed. By the way, I'm in love with Carly also you know? It's your own damn fault--you shouldn't have described her charms so well.

"play the library card" made me laugh out loud, Sam you Problem Child Bride you. And it's a damn good thing for you, because I don't like people subtly pointing out faults in my prose, and tend to react savagely.

Everything is a horror story Nicolas Papaconstantinou. It's just the antics of the comic relief that keeps the screaming to a dull roar.

You always ask the questions Slarrow; seek the information I either can't or won't provide. Let's just say for the sake of saying, that it was something by, oh I don’t know, Richard Adams, and leave it at that.

I'm going to say "No" Cindy-Lou because the thought of you killing me is oddly, darkly sexy.

I already released you Helga Von Porno--you no longer have to acknowledge the savage truth in all my posts... unless of course you really want to.

Hello Hen. Thank you but not really. Well, okay, maybe.

I gave it a try Old Hoss. At first the problem may have been that I didn't know what "portico" means. But then I decided it meant a hickory-smoked slab of pork and then everything made sense.

Goodness Ari, you really have it out for my man J.D. don't you? How sad and savage... surely you see the similarities between his prose and mine.

I know Talulah Trashbag, that's one of the reasons I love you.

Life is long sweet Amandarama and there's always time to be bludgeoned by a tower computer. Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it never will. (You know I adore Mr. Scoop at this point, right?)

 
At 10:24 PM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

So, was the book a murder mystery? Because that would be apropos.

 

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