I'm having a severe "Damn you book, will you just fucking end, for fucking fuck's sake?" kind of experience today. I'm at this midpoint of cleaning up old parts of the tale and on the verge of recommitting to writing new parts of the tale, and it's not that I've lost the ambition to finish it, but ..well, here it is in a short play.

Libris Fatale by A.M. Strout

Book: Fuck you.

Me: Would you shut up already?

Book: I'm sorry, which part of fuck you didn't you understand?

Me: Look, you're coming along nicely.. let's not ruin a good thing, ok?

Book: Did you eat a big bowl of stupid this morning?

Me: Where's my gun?

Book: If you kill me, it will make me more powerful than you can even imagine!