Bob & Harlan in a Threesome with Me

Out there is a guy named Bob. He used to work at the Crow's Nest, had a tattoo or two (if I recall correctly), and a piercing or two as well. The accuracy of his physical description is not important here, as what Bob looked or looks like is not what this little recollection is about. It is, instead, about a book he placed in my hands one fine day by the name of Shatterday. The cover was ripped from the volume, but the pages were intact. And that night I went home and read what continues to be my favorite short story of all time, "Jeffty Is Five" and cried like a Holocaust survivor.

Bob simply wanted to share with me a writer that he found so imaginative and brilliant that he couldn't bear to keep him to himself. He couldn't know that I'd be sitting in my room roughly ten years later at my relatively ancient laptop typing through tears because I'd recalled some random memory of him handing me a ratty book. I'm so glad he did.

And here I am these ten years later, watching a documentary about said author, Mr. Harlan Ellison, and loving both him and Bob in equal measure because they've made my life that
much more interesting. Thanks, Bob and Harlan.

(Oh, Harlan Ellison: Dreams with Sharp Teeth is the documentary.)