(GK, GD: Greg Davies, DB: Dell Burton, EE: Ed Edwards, EB: Edith Bennett)
GK: This week on the PHC book club We're very happy to have with us the Pulitzer Prize winning author Greg Davies.
GD: Thank you for having me.
GK: Your book, "An Amazing Tome of Unbearable Sorrow" has been a best seller for months now.
GD: Yes, it has.
GK: It's been called joyous, funny, hilarious.
GD: I've heard that.
GK: What inspired you to write this?
GD: My parents fatal rubber rafting experience.
GD: It made me very introspective.
GK: I see.
GD: And being introspective really allows you to see the funny side of things.
GK: I didn't know that. Well, we have our book club round table here tonight to discuss the book. Welcome Mrs. Dell Burton, Ed Edwards and Edith Bennett. So, Mrs. Burton, what did you think of the book?
DB: Actually, I did mean to read it, but Dell's mother came over for a visit. And well, you know how that goes.
GK: Yes I do. So, Mr. Edwards, what was your favorite part of the book?
EE: I liked the book jacket.
GK: It was a nice jacket.
EE: Good photo. He looks better on it there then here now.
GK: Ms. Bennett, how did you enjoy the read?
EB: You know, I never was able to find a copy. And the library was always out.
GK: I suppose that's good news for the author. Well, Mr. Davies, you have agreed to read an excerpt from the book this evening.
GD: Yes. Yes, I have.
GK: Okay. I meant now.
GD: Oh, yes, of course.
GK: So, now, Greg Davies reading an excerpt from his book, "An Amazing Tome of Unbearable Sorrow."
GD: "I clipped my nails. I had finally gotten around to taking my socks off, when I noticed them; the long, yellowish fiends that helped to poke holes in my socks and catch on threads in my bed. My toe nails needed clipping. A serious clipping. 'They shall be clipped liked they have never been clipped before,' I stated to no one in particular, as I was alone. I found the nail clippers, the ones that had belonged to my father. The only items I had left of his, the only thing that still contained the memories of my father. The only thing we hadn't been able to sell on Ebay.
I took those clippers and clipped my nails. I have wondrous nails. Nails of the gods. Friends envy my toe nails, foes fear them. Women lust for them. When they are properly trimmed, they actually draw crowds at the beach. I clip. The clippings cascade away from my foot. Some drop to the floor, others get catapulted high into the air. Are they escaping? Can they achieve escape velocity? Will my nail clippings break through the stratosphere, the ionosphere and enter into permanent geo-synchronize orbit over my home, or will they simply drop to the rug and lay there with their brethren. The latter, as it turns out. There on the rug is a history of all my clippings. A layered tapestry of bits of toe nail past, present, future. A small Stonehenge of nails. A crop circle of clippings, marking my territory. I really should sweep the floor.
My brother comes in, watching me wax lyrical about my bi-monthly trimming, my attempts to manage a façade of humanity in decidedly inhumane times. He watches some more.
"Clipping your toe nails again?" he says.
"Don't you know it," I reply.
GK: Wow. And the rest of the book is like that.
GD: Pretty much. There's the chapter where I wash my face. Then the chapter where I clean my ears. One amazing chapter where I boil an egg.
GK: Thank you once again for being here.
GD: Thank you for supplying me with a new chapter for the paperback edition.
GK: You're welcome.