I'm trapped in an enormous complex with a bunch of people who may or may not be in their right minds. Some sort of crime has occurred and I'm in charge of rooting out whoever did it. I find a blabbering old clown and an abandoned baby with a mysterious letter, but no culprit.
I consult a talking skull but all it does is attempt to put the fear of God into me. I try arguing with it that there is no evidence that God exists, but after a while I get mad and tell the skull that it is probably some trick rigged up by someone with a terrible sense of humor. The skull sulks and refuses to answer any more questions even though it never answered any questions in the first place.
I try examining an anesthetized spider for answers, but it was waking up so I sealed it in a plastic container--it was sort of difficult since it was a really large spider and I was using one of those containers where you could put your lunch in and the legs still poked out--and left it in an empty room. Eventually the spider laid an egg and all the baby spiders hatched out, eating their mother and invading the room, and I had to call an exterminator to kill all of them.
* * *
Plot Summaries. Should I be more arm-waving when I write about the books I've read or the movies I've seen? I thought I left all the high-minded analysis back with required humanities classes. I rarely read reviews before reading a book--if I read anything, it's the plot synopsis so I know what it is about. Reviews are for after finishing the book. Some are bad and some are good, but either way, I don't want to prejudice myself before starting it.
A Literary Award for Stephen King. I still don't understand why the literary establishment still scoffs at genre fiction. Or maybe the New York Times delibrately quoted an uppity Yale professor to make it seem that way. There's also a rather scary picture of King posted with the article.
