The Bookshop
“It’s not really my problem.” Said the bookshop.
“Not your problem? You bloody ate another one!” Said Gavin.
“A book?” said the bookshop
“No, a person! Mr. Hamish?”
The bookshop flung a few books onto the floor in protest. Gavin sighed.
“One Mr. Hamish? Yes.” Said the bookshop as if he were ordering a beer.
“Yes?”
“Yes, I ate him”. Said the bookshop.
“I know! Let him go!”
Gavin started to remove books from the tallest bookshelf.
“So, help me, I’ll-” Said Gavin holding three large leather-bound books.
“Bothersome man, your Mr. Hamish. Most unpleasant.”
Gavin removed more books.
“What are you doing? Stop that at once!”
The bookshop grabbed the books with its mind. With one swift pull the books returned to their home. Gavin steadied himself and sighed again.
“You can’t eat the customers!” said Gavin.
“Terrible customer, that man. Always whistling.” Said the bookshop.
Gavin looked to the front door as the bell rang. A woman with a penchant for pink strode into the room and demanded she see a first edition of a book long past having any editions, let alone a first one. She refused to believe Gavin when he calmly informed her, and then not so calmly repeated, that the bookshop had no such book. The woman rolled her eyes and asked for the manager. Gavin, now beaming, told her he was the manager. Before she could express her surprise the woman was sucked into the mouth of the bookshop.
“Eaten!” said the bookshop.
“I was about to-” Gavin turned around to find a short gentleman with startled eyes and a peculiar musty smell whistling next to him.
“Good morning, Mr. Hamish,” said Gavin.
The short gentleman looked Gavin in the eye, said nothing, and promptly left.
“See: a bastard. No hello. Didn’t even buy anything, spat him out for nothing,” said the bookshop.