Good day to you, noble reader.
You came back for more? Jumpin’ Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick, seek psychiatric counseling, will you?
Look, the first book was called “Toilet Gator” and it was about an alligator who ate people while they were sitting on the toilet. I get it. We can chalk your initial interest up to morbid curiosity. Most people realize it’s wrong to gawk at an accident along the side of the road, but they can’t help it. They spotted it, so now they feel an innate need to find out what happened, what it the carnage looks like, who lived, who died.
But it’s one thing to rubberneck at a car accident while you’re driving past it and a completely different thing to make a U-turn, head back the way you came, then turn around and come back again just so you can take a second look at the mayhem. That’s sick, noble reader, and that is essentially what you are doing here. Be ashamed. Be very ashamed!
Will more people be eaten by an alligator while they are sitting on the toilet in this book? Yes. That’s a no brainer. You know this. If you read the first book, don’t pretend like you don’t know what lies in store for you. People will sit down to poop and as they are doing so, they will become a massive lizard monster’s lunch.
Did I mention that I’ve upped the ante and now there is a shark who eats people while they are sitting on the toilet in this installment of the ongoing Toilet Gator series? Yes. Sequels must always up the ante and this one is no different. Now, if people aren’t being eaten by an alligator while they’re sitting on the toilet, they’re being eaten by a shark while they’re sitting on the toilet. Basically, if you are a character in this book and you feel the urge to drop a deuce, there’s a fifty percent chance you will be eaten by an alligator and a fifty percent chance you will be eaten by a shark. Even the most carefree Vegas oddsmakers wouldn’t take a bet on the continued existence of a character in this novel who needs to pinch a brick.
Do you have any idea how precious life is? The best thinkers, scientists, philosophers, theologians and others have tried their best to explain how tenuous our grasp on our own mortality is but suffice it to say, you’re born, you do some stuff and then before you know it, you’re dead. Every single moment of your life is precious and you have now made the conscious decision to take your very limited time and use it to read not one but two novels involving people being devoured by an alligator while they are squeezing the cheese. For shame, noble reader, for shame.
Oh, what? You think I should feel worse for writing a book about people being eaten by an alligator (and/or a shark) while they are sitting on a toilet? Why would I? Someone has to warn the public at large about the dangers of being eaten by toilet animals while sitting on a toilet and that someone might as well be me. Is it my fault that all of the high falutin’ book award people refuse to give an award to a book about people being eaten by an alligator while they are sitting on the toilet? No, it is not.
In short, while it is a very worthwhile endeavor for me to write a novel about people being eaten by an alligator while they are sitting on the toilet, it is conversely, and some might say an ironically, useless waste of time for you to read a book about people getting eaten by an alligator while they are sitting on the toilet. After all, at the end of this, I can at least say I wrote a novel (and stop there without any need for further description whilst promoting myself at the various super fancy writer parties I am still waiting for my invitations to), whereas all you can say is you read a novel…about an alligator…who eats people…while they are sitting…on the toilet.
Still not convinced I’m better for writing this dreck than you are for reading it, noble reader? Consider this scenario:
SCENE: A FANCY WRITERS’ COCKTAIL PARTY
PARTY GOER: Hi, what have you two done recently?
ME: I wrote a novel and that’s all you need to know about that.
NOBLE READER: I read a novel about people who are eaten alive by an alligator while they are sitting on the toilet.
PARTY GOER: Yikes, noble reader! You sicken me so you must leave now! BQB you can stay though and have sex with my wife if you want because you’re an awesome person who has written a novel.
And there you have it. What’s that, noble reader? You could just tell people that you “read a novel and it’s none of their damn business what the novel was about?” True. You got me there. Plus, if you wanted to go the extra mile, you could say you read a novel about geopolitical intrigue and leave out the part about the epic battle for the fate of the free world between an American toilet gator and a Russian toilet shark.
Also, if you want to, you could just close this book and go expand your mind by reading a classic like “War and Peace” or “The Count of Monte Cristo.” Both are very long masterworks of fiction that will enrich your lives, expand your minds, open your hearts and broaden your horizons.
However, neither book features a scene that involves a person being eaten by an alligator while they’re sitting on the toilet. Ha! You actually thought I was serious before when I told you that you needed psychological counseling for reading this book? Well, I was…and you do. But that’s OK. Disturbed people need reading material too and I’m happy to provide it to you…and also to take your money.
I guess what I’m trying to say is…thank you for the money. And now, without further ado, please enjoy this second book about people who are eaten by an alligator while they are sitting on a toilet.
Bookshelf Battle 