EDITOR’S NOTE: This morning I, as I sipped my coffee at Bookshelf Battle HQ, I discovered, much to my great surprise, the following note scrawled in poor penmanship taped to my front door. I cleaned it up a little, removed the many, many obscenities, and typed it out. Personally, I do not believe the Yeti deserves a response, but I suppose that in the name of fairness, I must allow him one.
Here is my recent post about my encounter with the Yeti.
And now, the Yeti’s response:
MY RESPONSE TO BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER’S OUTRAGEOUS, LIBELOUS STATEMENTS
By: The Yeti
Hello. This is the Yeti. And boy do I have a bee in my bonnet to share with you people.
Did I break into Bookshelf Battle Headquarters? Yes. Did I make my way into Bookshelf Q. Battler’s personal office space? Yes.
Did I have a right to be there? No. Did Bookshelf Q. Battler have the right to subdue me with brute force? Yes.
But let’s be honest about how it all went down.
Bookshelf Q. Battler is trying to present this tough guy image, paint himself as the only book blogger who fights monsters with his left hand while holding the book he’s reading in his right. Ridiculous.
The truth that his 3.5 regular readers need to hear is that Bookshelf Q. Battler is no tough guy at all. Before I broke into his compound, I spent many hours observing him through his living room window. That’s not weird because I was on a mission.
What did I observe? I observed one Bookshelf Q. Battler in a bathrobe, a makeshift bath towel turban on his head, cold cream on his face, sipping a strawberry daiquiri while watching Steel Magnolias. In fact, I observed on his coffee table a pile of DVDs, the titles of which included Beaches, Thelma and Louise, and Fried Green Tomatoes. It was a veritable treasure trove of 90’s era female empowerment flicks. And he calls himself a tough guy.
You want to know who the real tough guy is? Me. The Yeti. That’s who. You see, I have used my special yeti powers to forsake most of America with blistering cold temperatures just so I can walk around your Godforsaken land and hunt Bookshelf Q. Battler with impunity. Yetis, as you may or may not be aware, need blistering cold temperatures to survive. That’s just science.
Why am I after Bookshelf Q. Battler, you ask? Long story short, I’m a Russian Yeti. I’m not like my cousins, those high falutin,’ free-thinking Canadian yetis, or worse, those party all night, sleep all day Alaskan yetis.
I’m a yeti straight outta’ Siberia, son, and in Siberia, we have rules. We stand in line for three days just to get our weekly ration kit, which includes: one granola bar, half a cup of water, one stale biscuit, and three toilet paper squares. The Siberian powers that be have recently discussed the possibility of upping our allotment to four toilet paper squares, but if you ask me, that’s way too decadent. Four toilet paper squares today means we’re all a bunch of Western wannabes tomorrow. Four toilet paper squares will lead to us wearing cowboy hats, driving around in pink Cadillacs, and yelling, “Wazzzup?” at each other.
Is “Wazzzup?” still even a thing in your country? I don’t know. We are just now getting documentaries of your renowned scientist, Steven Urkel. I must say, his neighbors should be ashamed of the way they treated a man of such brilliance.
Anyway, this all started a few weeks ago. I was sitting in the Siberian yeti village, gathered in the hut I share with five hundred of my yeti relatives, all huddled around the one computer we collectively own. It is a 1986 Commodore 64, the absolute height of modern Western technology. You didn’t think we’d get our hands on one of your precious Commodore 64’s, did you, America? But we did. And now we play Topper with reckless abandon. All day long, we take turns controlling a mustached bartender as he whips one frothy beverage mug after another at his patrons.
Between games, we surf the net. We do this through a Wi-Fi generating device we have devised through a pile of rusty tin cans, the engine from a 1964 Yugo, one thousand AA batteries, and a bag of blueberry muffins. Do not ask me how it works. Your fat, stupid, lazy, reality TV show addled American brains could never possibly comprehend the basic principles of yeti science.
While searching for a book entitled, 101 Ways to Make Your Three Toilet Paper Squares Last Longer, we stumbled upon Bookshelf Q. Battler’s website, bookshelfbattle.com
We held a Siberian yeti meeting, the conclusion of which was that Bookshelf Q. Battler’s website is much too awesome, that if allowed to exist, it would spread awesomeness all over the globe. And the day that people are filled with ideas of awesomeness is the day that people and yetis alike start allowing their heads to be filled with ridiculous nonsense, like three toilet paper squares per week is not enough.
I, “The Yeti,” was elected by my yeti brothers and sisters to hunt Bookshelf Q. Battler down and stop his one post a day challenge. We simply cannot allow people to receive that much daily awesomeness for a year, even if those people number 3.5.
This brings us to the crux of my complaint. Did Bookshelf Q. Battler punch me in the face? Yes. However, he has left out crucial information and therefore, is guilty of a lie by omission. He’d have you think that he punched me in the face after an elaborate exchange of fisticuffs, when in reality, he zapped me in the back with a cattle prod, turned me around on the swivel chair I was sitting on, and then punched me in the face AFTER I was already unconscious.
Because I was already subdued, I believe that Bookshelf Q. Battler is guilty of “book blogger brutality.” My team of attorneys, who are also Siberian yetis, are currently exploring what options I may have to sue Bookshelf Q. Battler for the 3.5 dollars in his possession. This money will go a long way to alleviate my pain and suffering, not to mention make me the wealthiest yeti in all of Siberia. I will buy all of the toilet paper squares and rule the yeti village like a king.
Thank you, boorish and incompetent Americans, for taking the time to listen to my side of the story.
Sincerely,
The Yeti
EDITOR’S NOTE: Lesson learned. The next time I catch a yeti sitting in the swivel chair at my desk, trying to log on to my computer in an effort to shut down my blog, I will not take pity on him and leave his twitching carcass on the curb. I will use my taxidermy skills to stuff him and leave him on my front door as a warning to all yetis everywhere.
The bathrobe? True. The cold cream? True. The daiquiri? True. What, I’m not allowed to unwind after a long day of bookshelf battling?
The DVDs were not 90’s era female empowerment movies. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The DVDs were 1990’s era action movies. I was engrossed in a Jean Claude Vann Damme marathon. It made me nostalgic for the days I spent teaching him everything he knows.
Did I electrocute the yeti in the back with a cattle prod before I punched him in the face? Yes. Was the yeti already unconscious? No. Everyone knows that cattle prods only slow yetis down, they do not subdue them. The shock mildly stunned the yeti, giving me the upper hand I needed to apply the coupe de grace of a clothesline smash to the yeti’s proverbial snot box. It wasn’t pretty. I didn’t want to do it. But I had no choice. A man’s bookshelf battle compound is his castle.
If you have a question for me, post it below. If you have a question for the Yeti, you may also post it and I will pose it to him. He has agreed to take your questions.
Thank you for taking the time to listen to both sides. I feel confident that my 3.5 regular readers will realize that I am a bastion of truth and honesty, whereas the Yeti is a dirty, dirty liar.
Bookshelf Battle 