Montag was alone, sitting by a brook on the outskirts of the settlement.
Sure, he was helping to keep knowledge alive in the dark times by memorizing and becoming a book. But after these ten odd years, a dark sadness had descended upon him, sapping his spirit and diminishing his soul.
A tall man with a ruddy complexion and piercing eyes approached him.
"Hello, my friend. Why are you so morose?"
"Oh, hullo, Great Expectations. I'm kind of bummed out because I'm just not getting anywhere with the ladies. You ever have any problems like that?"
"Me? No, not at all," said the tall man. "I'm Great Expectations. I intrigue the hell out of women! Y'know, I've been diddling Madame Bovary for the past three months!"
"Well, it's sure different for me. Ever since I joined the Book People and selected a book to become, women don't take me seriously. Hell, they treat me like a child!
"Well, what do you think the problem is, Goodnight Moon?
"The problem is I can't compete with the more macho books! Last night I went to a single's bar with Captains Courageous and Last of the Mohicans. We ran into two chicks, Anna Karenina and Tess of the d'Urbervilles."
"Right away Captains Courageous pairs off with Anna Karenina and hasn't been home since. I spent the whole evening playing Ms. Pac Man while watching Tess of the d'Urbervilles grind into Last of the Mohicans on the dance floor!"
"Well, maybe some woman will admire you for your warm sentimental values as opposed to manliness."
"That only goes so far, Great Expectations. Can you imagine:
Ride me, Goodnight Moon!
Give it to me, Goodnight Moon!
It just doesn't work."
"I just had a thought, Goodnight Moon. A new woman recently joined the group; name's Dr. Zhivago. She looks a bit like a young Julie Christie."
"I've seen her! That Dr. Zhivago's babe-a-licious!"
"Well, I'll introduce you. Straighten yourself up, clean up your punctuation, and remember to stay in proper tense at all times."
"Okay, okay! Y'know, if all goes well, Great Expectations, one day Dr. Zhivago might become Mrs. Dr. Zhivago Goodnight Moon!"
"Let's not rush things, Goodnight Moon. But should you happen to get lucky, do me one favor?"
"What's that, Great Expectations?"
"For God's sakes, don't shout out:
Thank you, Winonah.
I'm glad to see you appreciate fine writing, such as that of Mr. Bradbury and myself.
And don't worry, WD: I will never cheapen myself for the masses!
I can't help but feel that somewhere Mr. Bradbury is looking on and thinking:
Any way to sue that jerk?
Thanks again for writing!
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