When we get a gift from the gods, we simply thank them. We do not ask why we are given this gift. We are just grateful.
I work with books. I think I’ve told you that. Sometimes the books we come across are weird. I am also weird. And the people who I work with know that these things go together like peanut butter and jelly. I would also like to say that I am the fifth person today to get an immense amount of joy from this book at work.
Serious, this is the best thing that happened to me in a long time. Look!
Let’s discuss, shall we?
- The frog has human eyes. They are blue and bloodshot. This is creepier than the usual creepy pupils of frogs’ eyes, which look like minus signs (-)(-), not unlike the eyes of goats or octopuses. I didn’t know it was possible to increase the creep factor.
- Oh, you don’t think they look the same? I am right. Observe:
- Either the frog is enormous or the lady is tiny. Hell–why either-or? Maybe it’s a little of both.
- I can see her dirty pillows!
- She suntans with her top off! Otherwise she’d have tan lines on the top, too. Slut! Slut! Slut!
- Green goo? Nasty. What do you think it is? What a mystery!
- She has the biggest hands in the world. They’re bigger than her forearms. Poor girl. Poor, deformed, freak woman who no one will ever love. She’s so brave to be out and about, over-tweezing her brows, taking her top off anyways to distract us from her Andre-the-Giant-hands and gallivanting around like she doesn’t work for the circus.
- Maybe she’s a tranny. Hadn’t thought of that. You go, Miss! Choose your fate! Choose your life! I’m sorry I made fun of your enormous hands. Maybe that’s the “Thing” that she was pointing at him in the previous book?
For those who are really interested, in case this is something they are thinking of adding their reading lists, here’s the back cover:
Yay! Ancient rituals. Witchcraft. Dubious art dealers. Ear-nailing dealt with in such a manner as to delight even the New Statesman, and we all know their critics are vapid bitches. And quite horrible rapes. You know, I’m so tired of getting softball rapes in my literature. Thank god someone is ready to really make them hard-core and gritty, with hysterical jokes! This book has it all.