I’m not the first to hit the books, I’m the first they hit back. It was a romance novel; I never expected resistance. After the first punch hundreds of books flew off the shelves, including the Bible, Eye for an Eye version.
A librarian stopped the fight, made me return the books to their proper places, taped by glasses crookedly, and then escorted me out of the library.
“Card, pal.”
“Don’t come back.”
Still angry, I hit the booze.
Booze hit back.
I fell to the floor.
Drunk, Dazed, Defeated. I puked, on me.
Barkeep watched the show.
Kept sweeping.
thebookhitthebooksrivera
