A Bad Book Signing: The Poem

Disclaimer:  For the record let it be stated that I love Barnes & Noble, Ted Dekker, Sharpies and have been known to down a Frappe or two. The experience expressed by this dramatic, life-changing bit of poetry is fictional, except for the part about a van, because…well, I own a van. And I promise that no book displays were harmed in the writing of this poem. Do not try this on your own…or with anyone else for that matter. Thank you. 🙂

And now, I bring to you my poem A BAD BOOK SIGNING or THE DAY I BOUGHT $900 WORTH OF BOOKS AT BARNES & NOBLE.

 

I was sitting at Barnes & Noble, sipping a Frappe

and jumped two inches from my chair when I heard somebody say,

“What do you think you’re doing with that Sharpie and those books?”

a red-faced gal stood there, giving me a dirty look.

 

I cleared my throat and smiled, not real sure just what to do,

it was then that I noticed her full-color I LOVE BOOKS tattoo.

“I can explain,” I said, and I hoped I was not whining.

“I’m a writer and I’m here for a surprise book signing.”

 

She glared down at the table and my mind, it went to reeling.

She said, “You’re a big fat liar.” And I said, “You hurt my feelings.”

Pointing at the stack of books, she yelled, “You’re NOT Stephen King!

And you look nothing like the Tom Clancy that I’ve seen!”

 

She gasped and then continued, “And Bond? Or Brown? Or Sparks?

And I am really veeeeeeeeery sure you’re not Mary Higgins Clark.”

I knew if I could just out run her, I’d be off the hook

because I’d signed somebody else’s name in every single book.

 

I darted to the right, and then I leaped the railing,

and landed on a big display of books all about yacht sailing.

Then I found another speed when I heard her say,

“Harold, call the cops…and someone get my pepper spray.”

 

I turned left at the calendars but she was closing in,

I ran past all the Horror books, a chill upon my skin.

She cut me off at Journals, I headed for non-fiction,

and sprinted past the books on how to remodel a kitchen.

 

I flew on by the travel guides and coffee table books,

banked hard at the book lights and raced past all the Nooks,

down the aisle with the books on how to fight infection,

until she got me cornered in the children’s section.

 

She aimed her pepper spay, so I offered up a plan,

we gathered all books I signed and put them in my van.

Nine hundred dollars worth of books went home with me that day;

each and every one in which I’d signed Ted Dekker’s name.

 

I learned a real good lesson on that book signing day,

and as a public service I pass it on your way;

The moral of the story is crystal clear to see:

if I ever do get published…I’ll sign the books as me!