I have a great start to my first book. I’ve written the acknowledgments and the “endnotes”, I guess you call them. Not a word yet of the book, but, you know how they say a bunch of monkeys with typewriters could write Shakespeare? Well, I have a monkey I keep out back in the shed (don’t worry, it’s heated) with an old electric typewriter, slaving away on my book. Hey, I figure if Tom Clancy and James Patterson don’t write the books they have their names on, why should I? (No disrespect intended to those who collaborate on books and own up to it and equally share in the credits, money, and fame from it.) I’ll just write my name on the royalty checks as they roll in. Like Patterson, I gave the monkey the outline, and he (the monkey, not Patterson) can do the rest. Anyway, here’s my contributions to my future Oprah-recommended NY Times bestseller.
I’d like to thank God (if there is one), my parents, luck, fate, school, some good books I’ve read, some TV and movies I’ve watched, and conversations I’ve had with family, friends, strangers, and internet friends, any or all of the above, for helping to bring out my greatness at writing and storytelling. (If, after reading this book, you heartily disagree with “greatness…”, then just please substitute “basic typing ability and a desire to write” for that part, and we’ll both be happy.)
I’d like to thank the Devil (surely there must be one; how else to explain Donald Trump, the Taliban, or any sports team I’ve ever disliked?) for introducing me to fast, bad women I’ve chased, fast bad men I’ve partied with, and the whisky and rough talk they introduced me to, which changed me from a nice, boring young man to a not-so-nice, not quite as boring, older man, but one with some imagination at least.
As for the endnotes, we have–
A note on the type used in this book:
The type used in this book is whatever type (of type) the publisher chose to use. If you are one of those who masturbates to the fact that someone chose a particular type (of type) that Shakespeare or some 18th century order of French monks used, I invite you to stalk the nearest library to get your jollies.
There may be blank pages, intentionally left blank by the publisher, at the beginning or end of this book. Please do not curl up in the corner, moaning and rocking yourself in the fetal position and tearing your hair out as people apparently must do, or attempt to sue the publisher due to your confusion and ensuing digestive woes which result from your not knowing whether or not the author or publisher intentionally left blank pages in the book, lest we forget to write “this page intentionally left blank” at the top of those pages. You will make it through this crisis, I promise. (No spokesmen, whether attorney or non-attorney spokesmen, were harmed in the disclosure of these disclaimers).
Oh, by the way, if any of you ever mark your progress in my book by folding the page corners over, I will personally stalk you and kidnap your pets. I will give them to a nice home, don’t worry about that, I just want you to be punished, somehow, for mangling a perfectly well-manufactured book. If you’re one of those who spills chocolate on library books so that I’m not sure if some previous reader wiped poop on the pages or if it was chocolate or some other food, so that I’m tempted to sniff it to find out (even though I’d never admit doing that), I’ll forgive you, because what’s better than eating, drinking, and reading? Well, except for sex, I suppose that’s better than those other things; I really don’t remember, though I do seem to remember some days having a big, stupid grin on my face the next day at work. Feel free to use the smutty parts of my book to get you revved up for sex once you’re done eating the chocolate. Just don’t bend the fucking corners when you put the book down to rock the bed with your favorite partner, or you will hear from me.
There, that’s as far as I’ve gotten with my part of my book. Now I must go. I hear a commotion out back in the shed. I may have to go out there and spank the monkey.