Ahhh, isn’t that neat.

Some nice person that lives just down the street from me has put up a lending library in their yard.  Rather, they put it up about a year ago.  And I’m so fucking lazy, I have yet to mock it.  A perfectly good thing to mock and I haven’t even bothered.  Plus, the thing is pink. It’s like a sniveling Ginger on the playground, first day of kindergarten, crotch of the pants wet with pee.  Ginger is gonna get it.*

*Please note:  I am not a Ginger hater.  I like all Gingers: pickled, shipwrecked, snaps and those that hail from the northern climes.  But really, they’re asking for it.**

**Please note:  They’re not really asking for it.  Do as I say and don’t do as I…say…

They built a little house of sorts and filled it full of books and put a note on the glass door, letting people know that they should feel free to take books and read them.  Probably on a chaise lounge.  Or under the covers at night with a flashlight.  Or in some other over-idealized and whimsical way adults and children are supposed to read good literature.  And then the note says that people have to bring the books back.  That’s the concept behind a lending library, kids.

Obviously these people have just ignored the sirens in the neighborhood and the impending doom brought by machete-wielding crack addicts come to take not just Pride and Prejudice but also the scalps of all second-born children on the Boise Bench (first-born attacks are sooooo Old Testament.  This is modern day, people).  If you don’t know what I speak of, then I place my finger against your lips, wherever the hell your lips happen to be (they better be on your face, wherever you face happens to be.  Damn, this is some downward spiral shit) and say to you, “shh…shut up.  And link to that shiz right here.”

I have yet to borrow a book from the gay (happy gay, not homosexual gay, pink house.  We all know inanimate objects can’t have a sexual preference.  But they do have feelings) little lending library.  I walk by it.  I let my dogs lift their fluffy legs against the pillars holding it upright.  But I haven’t even opened up the door and poked about.  Maybe it’s because I have too many of my own books at home to read.  Or maybe it’s because I won’t just pick a book, read the book and bring it back.  I’ll bring it back with gusto and add-ons and shenanigans!

What about these options for returns?

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott accompanied by a broken robin’s egg, found in the flush of spring.  Ah, spring.  Spring means death.  Also, birds are supposed to inspire you to write.  Hey, look, it’s a pelican!  Write the next American masterpiece, dill hole!

Redwall by Brian Jacques comes along with a live mouse, his little legs secured to the book with duct tape.  The mouse shall carry hantavirus and all book borrowers shall look upon the mouse, spread-eagle, like a magnificent God of Vermin and kneel to him.  More because of the sickness causing their body to shut down than the majesty.  But maybe a little of both.

Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbitt includes a small vial of water.  Is it the water of immortality the Tuck family sipped upon? Or is water from my backyard fountain that my banty hens sip upon?  It’s one or the other.  But I’m not telling.

White Noise by Don DeLillo has a template for a will stuck inside its pages.  But not just any template.  A template for a literary will.  Meaning that the word “deceased” will never be used.  Instead, the corpse will be described for paragraphs at length with words that are both confounding to the general populace but really damn pretty sounding when read aloud.

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe shall have a bookmark tucked up against the book spine.  The bookmark shall read, “Shit, is that a wrinkle?  Where?  Right there!  Right where you’re touching yourself.”  And granted, this has nothing to do with the book, but everyone thinks they’re getting old.  And they’re right.

I could go on and on.  For those of you that have read my other posts, you know I can go on and on.  So I’ll stop here.  With a warning to the lending library owner.  Sir/Madame/Transgendered Person:  You have been warned.  Surprises for all!  I’m like the tooth fairy!  Except I don’t take teeth, I take books.  And I bring back inappropriate things.  All in the name of funsies.