The humans, recognizing that it is not possible to house every book on the planet in their not-overly-large house, recently completed a rather exhaustive cull of the volumes on their shelves–and tables, and floor. (The male used to manage a bookstore where he exercised NO restraint whatsoever and allowed all manner of titles to follow him home.)
Therefore, one of the stops on our visit to the Big City to the South is a very large used bookstore, where the humans hope to sell some three laundry baskets, five boxes, and two bags full of books. The man at the buy counter does not look too enthusiastic about pricing such a quantity of dubious literature. (I may have hinted that there are Harlequin Romances and silverfish throughout, which is not true, but I can’t have the humans leaving with too much money!)
See the boxes at the buy counter? That’s their stuff!
While the cranky man–who really just wants to peer in the car and give them five dollars–deigns to look at a few of the books, I think Sigyn and I will do a little browsing.
This has potential, though if all it can throw is ping-pong balls, I’m not sure it’s worth twelve bucks.
Pfft! I have more magic in my pinky toenail than in this box!
Sigyn, my love, have you found anything?
And that would be a “yes.”
Eheheheheh! The humans have been offered thirty-six dollars for their books. Quite a slap in the face when I know for a fact that one of the books of comics, with its mint-in-package action figure, regularly lists for over $100 on ebay. They have to smile and take it, unless they want to pack it all back into their car and drive it all home again.
Now, Mr. Cranky Bookman, about my cut….