Books 481-485

As my older sister will tell you
my advice,
for when you don't know what to write
is to either write a play
or start with the line
"So-and-so walks into a bar."

Best case scenario:
you combine the two.

But I already gave that idea to my sister
and
since she's already writing
a play about a bar
for one of her classes,
that's out for me.

But,
today's books are really uninspiring.

So I'm going to write a play.

It just won't take place at a bar.

Scene:
A dimly lit café.
Mr. John Kunz sits at a table,
scribbling notes and occasionally glancing woefully
at the book on the table.
A coffee cup sits,
neglected,
next to it.
Mr. Kunz is wearing a green plaid suit and
wire-rimmed glasses.
His hair is slicked back.
His suit looks like something the 1950s
would like to forget.

Mr. West is sitting at the café bar,
eating a pastry and reading the comics.
He laughs loudly intermittently.

Reaching over the book,
Mr. Kunz knocks the coffee cup over,
soaking his notes.

Mr. Kunz:
Blast!



Mr. Rossel enters,
wearing a kippah and a tallit,
and sits down across from him.

They appear to be old acquaintances.

Mr. Rossel:
Something the matter?

Mr. Kunz:
I just ruined all of my notes!
Now my cover artist
won't have any idea of what changes I want!

Mr. Rossel:
Your cover doesn't look too bad to me.

Mr. Kunz makes a face.

Mr. Kunz:
It's dated.
And the slant of the bar graph
makes it look like math is on decline.
And my name is in a really tiny font.

Mr. Rossel:
Well,
you know what they say about font sizes...

Mr. Kunz:
Please.
Stop.
We don't need to go there.
This is a family blog.
And...
And I've seen your cover.


Mr. Rossel:
Hey!
I like my cover!

Mr. Kunz:
Oh, please.
You're cover looks like it was designed
in Microsoft Word.

Mr. Rossel:
At least I have style.

Mr. Kunz:
Yeah,
what is that pattern,
anyway?
It looks a little like wallpaper.

Mr. Rossel:
Now you're just being mean.

Mr. Kunz sighs.

Mr. Kunz:
Look,
all I'm saying is it's no
Gates of Prayer.


Mr. Rossel:
Okay,
true.
Gates of Prayer
is a classic.

Mr. Kunz:
It's stylish.

Mr. Rossel:
It's embossed.

Mr. Kunz:
The font is simple, yet elegant.

Mr. Rossel:
And gold.
Don't forget gold.

Mr. West finishes his pastry
and puts down his paper.

Mr. West:
Did I hear you discussing cover art?

Mr. Kunz:
Yes, we were,
Mr. ...?

Mr. West:
West.

Mr. Rossel:
Oh!
OH!

Mr. Rossel looks meaningfully at Mr. Kunz.
It takes him a minute,
but he gets the message.

Mr. West:
I have a cover artist
I absolutely adore.
I could give you her card,
if you like.

Mr. Rossel starts laughing silently
behind a napkin.

Mr. Kunz:
I don't think that will be necessary.
I'm afraid your cover artist...
Well.
Her style is just not what I'm looking for.


Mr. West takes personal offense at this.

Mr. West:
I see.
I'm sorry to have intruded upon you.
Good day,
gentleman.

Mr. West leaves.
Then he comes back,
grabs his newspaper off the counter
and storms off.
Mr. Rossel bursts out into loud laughter.

Mr. Kunz:
Really, Rossel!
You weren't any help there!

Mr. Rossel
(between guffaws):
I'm sorry!
I couldn't help it!
It was the expression on the rodent's face
that did me in!

Mr. Kunz:
Really!
(He thinks for a minute.)
You know what?
I'm going to track down the
On the Doorposts of Your House
fellows.
They do lovely covers.


Mr. Rossel:
Excellent idea!
And,
while you're at it,
can you see if they do group discounts?

Mr. Kunz sighs,
but nods.

Finis.