The Da Vinci Code

Mads, my Norwegian companion, and I were perusing the shelves at a book store when we heard:

"That Da Vinci Code has to be one of the best books of all time. Dan Brown is an exceptional writer."

We turned and found two middle aged women about ten feet away from us. I approached the one who was talking.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help overhearing. You said you were a Dan Brown fan?"

"Yes, you too."

"Guilty as charged. You know, if you're a fan of Brown's work, you'll love this other writer, Henry Miller."

"Oh, did he do that touching memoir about growing up in Jim Crow Alabama on a farm that Oprah had in her book club."

"That's the one, though I prefer some of his other works. Try this one." I handed her the Tropic of Cancer.

"I've never heard of this. I'm looking for a new book anyway, so this should be great."

I gave her my number so she could call after she was done. I wanted to hear her reaction. A few days later that call came.

"So, what did you think?"

"It was interesting... that's the only word I have for it: interesting. I don't think I've ever had my vagina referred to as a cunt so eloquently before."

"Exactly."