So I bought that Matthew Rohrer book from Amazon. It arrived in the mail on Saturday. I was so excited that I made Garrison drive us wherever we were going so I could read in the car.
I said: "Matthew Rohrer has arrived. Therefore you will take the backseat and chauffer my ass around. Bitch."
Anyway so I read Matthew Rohrer in the car, sort of, except reading poetry in the car is not advisable. All poetry read in the car or in motion becomes bad. Plus there was some rap shit on the radio, which did not mesh well with Matthew Rohrer. Rap shit is never funny; Matthew is. You can see why this doesn't work.
Anyway so then we went to Jewel. I put Matthew Rohrer in my purse, which--I have to have purses that are big enough to cart around at least 2 books plus all my girlstuff, so clearly the book fit securely in there. Clearly. Or else I could have left Matthew Rohrer in the car.
Either way, the next day, Sunday, I was so excited to get up and read Matthew Rohrer. I went to my purse and he wasn't there. I went to Garrison's car and dug around and looked everywhere, even in the trunk. He wasn't there either. I looked all over our house. Nowhere. I looked in my car, just in case Matthew had fled Garrison's tidy car in favor of my gross car. Nope. I looked in the cars at least four times. We looked all over the apartment. Nothing.
I was so upset that I couldn't read anything until like 4 hours later. Because when I have something that I want to do and don't get to do it, my whole world crumbles. Eventually I read something else, but it was not the same.
Now I am wondering who has my book. Because, get real, it's a book of poetry and nobody would want it. I think I remember feeling a stealing sensation, like a hand slipping into my purse, while we were in Jewel. Maybe poets sneak all around the city, peering into big weird purses because they know there are poetry books in there, and steal the poetry books, and run off cackling. Maybe a Jewel employee stole it for fun. I am pissed that I didn't put my name and phone number inside the front cover like I used to do with every book because all my "friends" would steal my books, so my name in there was like a reminder of their guilt.
3 comments:
dude maybe you left it in the yogurt bin. or it fell into the frozen pizzas freezer. or your cat took it. knowing your cat, i think this is the most likely of the three. your cat totally eats poetry.
Coincidentally, I received my copy of this book yesterday. I suspect my mailman of stealing your book.
You should check Beachwood's pockets! That kitten is sly.
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