Today (like any other day) I arrived home from my required 8 hours of enforced slavery, parked my car (ensuring none of my bastard neighbors nor their fucktard guests had stolen my parking space), and walked towards the door. But today was different. My usual mindless routine (head spinning from a full day of cranial rape) had been rudely interrupted. Today, at my doorstep was something I was sure was not there before. I had to think. Did I put this here? In my Monday morning semi-comatose state, had I placed an object I had never seen before at my doorstep in attempt to confuse myself later that day? Unpossible!
I looked down at my doorstep to see this:
A book! Yes, that’s what it is- a book. And not just any book, but a free book. Excited, I scooped up the book and unlocked the door, keys shaking in my hand as I anticipated the joy of running inside and reading it.
As I entered my home (nearly tripping on my collection of shoes), I sit down and begin to read.
AAABAAB Tv Antenna Parts Bntligh 9553 7170 AAABAAC Telephone & Antenna Outlets Installed High 1300 731 162 AAA Back Open Locksmiths Lvl1/1QueensRd Mobile Telephone…
The story made no sense. I wondered how such rubbish could be published. I then remembered how I came into possession of the book; Someone had dumped it on my doorstep.
Had this been an act of rage by one of my bastard neighbors, disposing of a regretted purchase? No, it couldn’t be. Today is bin day. Surly they would have just thrown it in the bin?
It could have been an attempt to directly insult me. Leaving such rubbish on my doorstep. I mean, the only thing worse would be a Danielle Steel novel. But no. This was a far too cunning stunt for any of my enemies to think up. It had to be something else.
Then the thought hit me. This book was left here by the author. Clearly hurt by the rejection of every publisher in existence, this man/lady/other decided to publish it themselves and, in attempt of promoting their work had dropped free copies on doorsteps.
Unfortunately the author has not only failed to write, but also failed in promotion as the work was delivered unsigned.
And so anonymous, if you’re still out there drowning in your pool of wine with tears flooding your empty room of sorrow as you realize the error of your ways. Please contact me as I would like to return your book.
In the meantime, I shall keep it in my pile of other useless and unwanted “gifts”.