Book Club
My Book Read Me. Now I Feel Small.
“I see you’re reading Frankenstein. Honey, you know you don’t need a book for that, just look in a mirror.”
Last night I laid in bed and read the book The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. My girlfriend says the book will make me more compassionate. When I finally turned the book right side up, I heard,
“No wonder you’re so pale. That forehead brow is so dense it shades your face like a canopy.”
I flipped the book over and saw its mouth open.
“Don’t act like you’re a book worm. You opened me just to update your Goodreads.”
It said to my face. It was right. How did my book read me like that?
“You don’t have to update your Insta bio to say you’re a ‘book enthusiast,’ your follower count already tells us that.”
That stung coming from the book. How did it know I wanted to be a social influencer? Except, I’m failed at it because not even my girlfriend will follow me. “Oh, yeah?” I quipped back. I couldn’t think of anything to follow that up with, so I just said it again with more intensity.
“I’m just surprised you can read anything past 280 characters.”
The book said. Was I really that easy to read? I plunged back into the book and ignore the bully. But the words had too many syllables and I gave up after 280 characters. Eyeing my girlfriend’s bookshelf behind me, the book ripped…
“I see you’re reading Frankenstein. Honey, you know you don’t need a book for that, just look in a mirror.”
I hadn’t planned on reading Frankenstein, but I’m assuming the book is about a really hot guy like myself. My interest was peeked. Just when I thought the book wanted to become my friend, it went for the jugular.
“Maybe instead of reading, you should try out for basketball. Your head would make an excellent backboard.”
Strange how you could have a big head but feel so tiny. I leaned back into my bed to shrink my body. Pillows engulfing me.
“You need the light to read me? Your ears are so big, I thought you were a bat.”
I pulled the blankets over my face. That was the only way to hide from the humiliation. But, then I felt the last nail plummet into my coffin.
“Honey, with shoulder like those, you don’t need a bookshelf.”
Poof. I vanished into nothingness.
