Books I Didn’t Write is a recurring gag here at the blog. I take a random picture, come up with a title, and then write up a fake review.

Yes, it is as dumb as it sounds.

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The Day the Sun Cried

by Bryan Allain

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Publisher: Muggsy Bogues Press

Status: In Mourning

For Fans of: overcast skies, sadness, boiling tears, weeping, emptiness, brevity, attention deficit disorder, and saline eye rain.

Summary: A collection of Bryan Allain’s shortest stories. Some are only 40 syllables long. Others are wordless.

What People Are Saying:

“Drink lots of water with this one because if the tears you shed don’t dehydrate you, the heavy breathing will.”

“The most efficient stories I’ve ever read. Not a space or a comma was wasted in these precious literary gems. I’d say more, but I’ve already said too much.”

“These stories are so short, they couldn’t even ride the teacups at Disneyland.”

Book Excerpts:

“Fred’s third arm grew at twice the rate of the rest of his body. His decision to model outerwear, while initially frowned upon by his family, turned out to be the best thing for him. But only because it forced him to cut off his third arm.”

“As her body was lowered into the ground, her spirit floated above the funeral service in peaceful solitude.  Had she not been so excited about the fact that she could physically see thought bubbles as a dead person, she might have been mad enough to haunt her nephew Jimmy for thinking about the Steelers during her funeral. But wow, visible thought bubbles.”

“Green scarf. Made to fend off boredom. Shelved to avoid clutter. Thrown out to clear closet space. Rotting in a landfill for all eternity next to a Dasani bottle. Mother earth chokes.”

Awards: Book Book of the Year – InstantGratification.com

People Who Liked This Book Also Enjoyed:

• Quick Bathroom Reading for Fun and Hemorrhoid Avoiding
  
• 101 Stories Shorter than War and Peace
  
• The Idiot’s Guide To Writing Without Words
  
• Twilight
• Ninja Quest 2: Riding the Solar Flare
  

If you want to play along, feel free to submit a book report on this masterpiece in the comments section.

You can check out past Books I Didn’t Write here.

I recently realized I was born to be in advertising. It’s only a matter of time before every major ad firm is begging me to join their staff and every major company is on my doorstep asking me to hock their wares.

Please don’t be alarmed by the sheer genius and awe-inducing power of what you’re about to see. And please don’t try to donate money to me for sharing these…I’ll be dropping these on you pro bono every week until I get hired to do this full time. It shouldn’t take long…

(to help you cope with the daylight savings time adjustment, here’s 2 new editions)

and if you can’t see these in your reader, click here.

If you’re an ad agency and you want some of this, it’s bryanallain-at-gmail.com.

If you’re a company with a product to sell, ditto.

I’m changing the game…we are all witnesses.

ps…I skipped over edition #003 because that one deserves it’s own post next week.

Welcome to Cliche Thursday, where each week we deconstruct 5 expressions that we’ve all become a little too familiar with and ask you for some of your own least favorites.

Today we’re getting a little violent…

Here we go…

“Don’t shoot me, I’m just the messenger” – and for future reference, even if I’m not just the messenger next time, don’t shoot me then either.

In fact, here’s a rule of thumb to go by for all of our future interactions. No matter what I am, never shoot me.

“Bite the Bullet” – Legend has it that they used to give wounded soldiers a bullet to bite on when undergoing surgical procedures before the invention of anesthesia.

Maybe I’m an idiot, but couldn’t we have found something less dangerous for these guys to stick between their clenched teeth than a live round? How about a rock? A piece of wood? An angry mongoose? I guess it wasn’t bad enough that these guys were having limbs amputated with no pain meds, we wanted to try and blow all the teeth out of their mouth as well.

“I’ll be a son of a gun” – But to be honest, I didn’t have much of a choice. My daddy really did love that female rifle of his.

“He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword” – That’s because most people die in their houses.Truth is, this expression works no matter what you live next to.

Move next to a pumpkin patch and suddenly this expressions becomes “He who lives by the gourd, dies by the gourd.”

“Let’s bury the hatchet” – and let’s hope no one around here owns a metal detector, because if they dig that thing up, our fingerprints are all over it. And blood. There’s a lot of blood on that hatchet. And maybe carving the names of our victims into the wooden handle was too much? Yeah, it probably was. So was autographing the blade in a sharpie.

You know what? Less talking, more digging.

What About You: Any expressions really silencing your gun lately?

Add them to the list so we can skewer them in the coming weeks.

I recently realized I was born to be in advertising. Not sure why it took me this long to see it, but it’s only a matter of time before every major ad firm is begging me to join their staff and every major company is on my doorstep asking me to hock their wares.

I’m sure I could make some calls and get hired by an ad agency in 10.5 seconds, but that’s not how I roll. I’d rather do my thing and let them come to me.

Please don’t be alarmed by the sheer genius and awe-inducing power of what you’re about to see. And please don’t try to donate money to me for sharing these…I’ll be dropping these on you pro bono every week until I get hired to do this full time. It shouldn’t take long…

If you’re an ad agency and you want some of this, it’s bryanallain-at-gmail.com.

If you’re a company with a product to sell, ditto.

I’m changing the game…we are all witnesses.