Perfect for Mother's Day: the Baby Be of Use series or The Secret Language of Sleep. - - - - |
Long Title, Short Announcement.- - - - McSweeney's is proud to present Noisy Outlaws, Unfriendly Blobs, and Some Other Things That Aren't as Scary, Maybe, Depending on How You Feel About Lost Lands, Stray Cellphones, Creatures From the Sky, Parents Who Disappear in Peru, a Man Named Lars Farf, and One Other Story We Couldn't Quite Finish, So Maybe You Could Help Us Out, a collection of stories for wise young people and immature old people, featuring new work from Nick Hornby, George Saunders, Kelly Link, Neil Gaiman, and many others. Each story has color illustrations by a different artist, including Marcel Dzama, Barry Blitt, and Lane Smith. There are also bells and whistles galore, including a fold-out map, a crossword puzzle, a photograph of a large rotund bug-eyed beast, and an introduction by Lemony Snicket. And the loudest bell of them all, also from Mr. Snicket: a half-finished story, appearing on the inside of the dust jacket. You finish the story in the space provided, fold up the jacket into a special aerogram, and mail it in. The best ending will receive a fabulous prize of some sort, as well as public adoration. (There will be separate competitions for entrants above and below 18.) And now, for you, clever Internet user, we present a sneak preview of this interrupted story, so you can begin plotting this very afternoon. Come back tomorrow to see endings from two 826NYC students. - - - - Recently, while searching through a pile of papers in order to find out where that whimpering noise was coming from, I found the beginning of a story. It is only the very beginning, and scarcely anything interesting has happened—in fact, without some sort of interference, I feared the story might become quite tedious. Therefore I am inviting all interested parties to interfere and continue the story, and whoever continues the story in the least tedious way will win the contest and receive some sort of
nontedious prize. It was February, and five children, all of whom were more or less healthy, were sitting on the ground in a lazy circle. It was quite dark, and the children had to squint to see one another's frowning faces. "I wish we were ice skating," said Robin. "I wish we were eating Mexican food," said Apu. "I wish we were wearing boots," said Alastair. "I wish we were playing percussion instruments," said Lillian. Miranda sighed. She was the youngest of the five children, but nevertheless she was often the leader of the group. She tried not to be bossy about it, but it is difficult not to be bossy from time to time. "We can't do any of those things," she said. "We're not at a skating rink, and we don't have any skates. We're not in Mexico, and there's not an enchilada in sight. We're not wearing boots, and there's not a department store for miles around. And we're not playing percussion instruments, because it wouldn't be wise to make so much noise. After all, we're in a puzzling and possibly dangerous situation. I know it's difficult to believe, but we may have to face the fact that we're on our own." "But how can that be?" Robin asked. "Just a few hours ago we were on a picnic with Madame Blatavsky, when all of a sudden
- - - - OTHER McSWEENEY'S FEATURES: - - - - Long Title, Short AnnouncementThe New Gallimard Translation of My 250-Word French Essay, Sophomore Year By Jeff Barnosky The Earlier Epic Battles of Grendel's Mother By Eric Silver Christopher Walken Attempts to Convince a Harlem T-Shirt Vendor That Scarface Can Be a Religion By Libby Leonard An Open Letter to the Squirrel Trying to Chew Its Way Through My Roof By William Sawalich |
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