(no subject)
Yesterday at work I stopped a woman from buying Fifty Shades of Grey because she’d told me she was getting books for her son’s AP English course and considering the other title on her list was To Kill a Mockingbird I was pretty sure E.L. James was not a part of the local 9th/10th grade curriculum, advanced placement or no.
Correct book turned out to be Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys.
Dear unknown teenage boy saved from walking into the first day of class with none of the summer reading done and a copy of Twilight-With-Anal-Fisting under his arm: YOU’RE WELCOME.
I can't stop laughing about it because this woman was so nice and proper and bakes-cookies-for-the-PTA-esque, the kind of mom that makes sure her kids finish up their summer reading, and...
What if I hadn't been there? What if every time this kid sat down to play video games she just looked at him with that look until he slowly, grudgingly put down the controller and reached for that dreaded, uncomfortable, and horrifically written smut and every time she saw him reading it she would just beam and he would sink further into the couch in shame.
WHAT IF SHE MADE HIM GIVE PROGRESS REPORTS. She looked like the kind of mom who asked for progress reports. At the dinner table, in front of everyone.
And the kid he doesn't know what to do, and the whole time is like:
What is happening.
What is.
Why.
Whhyyyyyyy.