Saturday, July 21, 2007
One thing I have learned: even when the big bookstores are offering Harry Potter on pre-order only, you can always count on the supermarkets to have them in stock.
So, I get home from the grocery store with my coveted copy of the latest novel under my arm, ready to drop everything and begin reading. I open the door, but Snuffles somehow knew I would find a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows while I was out. He was clinging to the ceiling Spider-Man-style right above the door, and as soon as I was inside, he jumped me!
I got a number of scratches, some of them bad, but I can under ordinary circumstances fight Snuffles off. This time, however, both Frederick the Unicorn and Phenny the Phoenix rushed me from the sides. I was soon pinned, and Phenny was even standing over me doing his flame-in-the-air trick, something he uses only when trying to intimidate someone.
"Frederick? Phenny?" I gasped. "Since when do you guys team up with Snuffles?"
"Listen, cheesecake," Snuffles said, "you've recently blogged about two family films, and I even hear you're planning to review some of Disney's last 2-D wide-release cartoons without my input in preparation for Enchanted. You're meddling in my territory, bucko: kid stuff and Japanese stuff, remember? Harry Potter is kiddie lit; therefore, it's mine."
"Kiddie lit?" I cried. "The actors in the movies are old enough to have their own kids!"
Frederick adjusted his spectacles and shook his head, making his goatee wag. "I'm sorry, Deej," he told me, "but Snuffles is right. You've overstepped your bounds: hand over the book."
"Now," Phenny added.
This I was not going to take. I had just gone through fire and shadow, or at least the Wal-Mart checkout line, to acquire this book, and I was not about to see it slip from my grasp. Spread-eagle on the floor though I was, I shouted, "They may take our lives, but they will never take...our novels!"
A fierce battle ensued during which half the living room was destroyed. I even used my new kung fu style of "Magic Kicks," but to no avail. When the smoke cleared, I found myself in the middle of the floor next to the broken cow lamp, nursing a dislocated shoulder (typing this hurts like you wouldn't believe), with no fantasy animals and no Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows anywhere in sight. I can only assume Snuffles will be reading the book and, in short order, reviewing it himself.
Heaven help us.