The Art of Storytelling

At my favorite place to go for lunch on a workday, the person at the register takes notice of the book I have in my hand and asks what I plan on reading in the sixty minutes I have to get my head off of work. “It’s Invisible Monsters,” I say, “the most fucked up book I have ever read.”

The person at the register grins and asks what the book is about. I tell him that it’s about the most fucked up story I have ever read. I tell him that it’s “Fucked up, man.” I tell him that the book is written by the guy who wrote the book Fight Club before it ever became a movie. I tell him, “And if you thought Fight Club was fucked up, you should check this book out.”

If Mr. Chuck Palahniuk was a porn star, he’d be Ron Jeremy. And Invisible Monsters would be his greatest fuck.

Jump to the next book in my reading queue, School for Stingers, recommended so much by two friends who took turns reading chapters to each other as bedtime stories, they decided to give me a brand new book free of Albani-Jew glue for my birthday.

From a fucked up book to a book of nothing but fucking, this is going to be interesting. While the cover of Invisible Monsters left something for people sitting next to me on the train wondering what the book was about, the busty chests on the cover of School for Stingers will have people doing more worrying than wondering if there’s anything else besides my monthly train pass I’ll be whipping out on the commute to or from work.

Jump to the next time I’m at my favorite place to go for lunch on a workday. The person at the register takes notice of the book I have in my hand and asks what I plan on reading in the sixty minutes I have to get my head off of work this time. “It’s The DaVinci Code,” I say, “the most heart pounding, fast moving, suspense thriller that will leave you breathing hard and gasping for air.”

Looking at my watch, I tell him that I’m actually a minute late today because I had to take care of something really quick.

I tell him, “No worries though, I’ve already got my head off of work.”

I tell him that the next fifty-nine minutes are going to be like the moment you leave work on a beautiful sunny Friday afternoon heading into a stress-free and worry-free weekend.

Nothing but pure relaxation.

I tell him to have a good rest of his day, and then I find a table for me to eat my lunch, and start reading my book with both hands clearly on the table for everyone to see.

During this post I Google'd: Venice Cafe, Chuck Palahniuk, School for Stingers, Perverts in Public