Imagine our delight: In late October, we march into the local Borders, where our labor of, well, labor, glistens proudly from the New Arrivals table. It's the moment of authorial pride we've never dared to hope for - not a measly pageview on some irate tech support's terminal, but a bundle of aggro, sitting next to the latest Dilbert evacuation, whose sales we will undoubtedly smash like a packet of KFC butterspread. Pre-holiday-season browsers pick up and fondle its pages, grappling with what we hope becomes the preeminent philosophical quandary of 1997: one copy or two? They've only got three copies, pal - better decide quick.

One week later: A return to the same display spot finds all copies gone, the Dilbert book readjusted to obscure its absence. An inquiry at the information counter is the last-step obstacle before our shrill, security-cop-attracting victory dance may commence....








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