This morning I was shocked to discover that one of my books had been vandalized by some sort of graffiti. Even more shocking, the vandal signed his name. I do not know who you are, Mr. Neil Gaiman, but it is highly improper to wander through bookstores, slapping tiny little graffiti stickers all over everything. For the record, I concur with your assessment: Edward Gorey was positively brilliant and that The Gashlycrumb Tinies is an exquisitely unsettling bit of work. But you should not place stickers on other people’s books. Granted, I did not actually witness the sticker being affixed, but I definitely do not recall having seen it before, and your name is right there on the sticker. I have the strong suspicion that you are one of those odd individuals who keeps shouting “Terry Pratchett!” in the middle of my humble bookstore. Shame on you.
This sort of thing has happened before, but it seems to be occuring more and more often. Three days ago, people started walking into the shop, standing in the middle of the room, and suddenly saying: “Terry Pratchett. Terry Pratchett. Terry Pratchett.”
I don’t know why, but this happens every year around this time. Last night they began to work in pairs. One person will go to one end of the store, and the other will go to the opposite end. The first one will shout, “Terry Pratchett!” And then the one at the other end will shout back “Terry Pratchett!” They will shout back and forth endlessly until they are escorted out of the store.
I do not understand what this is all about. I am simply trying to run a bookstore.
It has happened again. A couple, holding hands, entered the shop, then stopped in the middle of the room. The young woman said: “Three on three?” The man nodded. In unison, they counted to three and then said:
“Terry Pratchett, Terry Pratchett, Terry Pratchett.”
I do not know why.
