First of all, when people tag me to do memes, even cool ones, I ignore them. Sometimes I apologize, but mostly I just say “you think I’m doing a meme?” This is a continuation of my elementary school habit of refusing to write stories on any of the four subjects suggested and coming up with my own idea.

1. what I did on my summer vacation
2. my pet
3. what I want to be when I grow up
4. when my family came to Canada

I think it’s fairly safe to say that “How to Capture a Unicorn” is a more compelling essay topic, particularly for a teacher who’s spent several hours wading through identical papers.

In any case, I don’t do memes when tagged. I do, on occasion, steal memes, though, and it is the result of one such theft which has made inevitable my eventual, and eternal, damnation.

It was a simple book meme; Grab the nearest book, turn to page 123, look up the fifth sentence, and type out the next three sentences. Innocuous enough, right? Like the pebble which starts the avalanche, it displayed no hint of the terrible chain of events it was about to set in motion. First, max posted it. Then I read it. And then, I’m ashamed to say, the urge to pocket it became irresistible and I gave in and grabbed that fucker like it was a chocolate-coated, bacon-wrapped, Viggo-topped ingot of solid gold.

And I ran with it.

Oh, man. This is so sad. The nearest book is The Last Battle, by CS Lewis. Great, I get the book that has the end of the world in it. Swell.

Tirian had no need to ask which was the High King, for he remembered his face (though here it was far nobler) from his dream. He stepped forward, sank on one knee and kissed Peter’s hand.

“High King,” he said. “You are welcome to me.”

Oh, great. And now I’ve put gay innuendo into a meeting of the High King and the Last King of Narnia.

I’m going to hell.

Well, I am!

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