She paused when she reached the 300s. There was a small, furry, blue man on the shelf. His hair was spiky, like a hedgehog. He regarded her with an air of challenge.
“What are you?” she asked.
“I’m a book.”
“You are not.”
“I’m on a bookshelf, aren’t I?”
“You’re not square and made of paper. You don’t look like these.” She gestured at her shelving cart.
“So I’m a unique book.”
“What are you about, then?”
“Oh, everything. I’ve flown through the stars. I’ve seen galaxies born and die.”
“This is the social sciences.”
“So I’m misshelved,” he shrugged.
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3 comments:
Need funnier book.
Que?
The book needs to have a better look, and another, nastier, line along with the mis-shelfed thing.
U no I'm Ryte
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