So I decided to take a whole day off and wake up gloriously late at noon and then go explorin’ cross this hotbed of mystery and strangeness known as New York City. Er, I mean, this sleepy little town known as Tallahassee. I went to a 24-hour breakfast place for coffee and my egg fix. Read the NYT. Wandered on down to the local used book store and picked up a cool-looking novel titled Manhattan Nocturne. Checked myself into the angsty nihilist clinic otherwise known as Watchmen (wow. eh. wow. eh.). Ambled out and got myself a smoothie because it was now about eighty hours later and my stomach was grumbling. Decided to check out the local chain bookstore, browsed the magazines, thumbed through some nonfiction, scanned through a copy of Watchmen to see if I was right that the movie wasn’t scene-for-scene.
Then I walked by the cafe, whereupon I came upon the display pictured above. A shiny row of mass market paperbacks. I looked upon them. Much of it seemed fun but slight.
Then I saw the sign above the table, and my blood froze:
First they take urban fantasy and make it something else (no offense, but the new “urban fantasy” ain’t my thing). Then they take dark fantasy and turn it into popcorn. For shame! For shame! (Watch out, New Weird–you’re next…)
Sigh. That’s what I get for leaving the house…