My fresh off the press ARC of Nothing to Lose was kidnapped by the transit police on Friday after a nefarious book thief tried to nab it on the subway.
On Saturday I trudged down to One Police Plaza to reclaim it. Here's what happened:
Me: Two transit cops kidnapped my Lee Child novel.
Desk Sergeant: Which one?
Me: Nothing to Lose
DS: Is that new? I haven't read it.
Me: It's coming out in June. I had an advance reader copy.
DS: Any way to prove it's yours?
Me: Well, I know that some companies are numbering and personalizing ARCs to prevent them from being sold, but I don't think this one has my name in it.
DS: Well, without your name in it there's not much I can do. You might try back in a week or so.
Me: If there's not much you can do, why would coming back in a week help?
DS: Well, I..uh..I'll have a chance to look for it by then.
Passing cop: What he means is he'll have had a chance to read it by then.
And sure enough, there under a stack of forms I spy my very own copy of Nothing to Lose.
Here's the proof:
Me: That's MINE!
DS: Prove it!
Just as I'm about ready to break into sobs of frustration, I hear a voice behind me.
Voice: Actually, it's mine, but give it to her.
DS: Yessir, Mr. Noah. Here you go ma'am.
I turn around but this Noah guy has disappeared.
Me: Who was that guy?
DS: You've never heard of Noah and his ARC?
14 comments:
Grooooaaaannnn. :)
double grooooaaaannnnn.
That's it, I'm in the middle of writing book four in my series, I'm sticking in at least one real groaner. It's only fair.
Thank you. I needed that. (Nose back to the grindstone.)
Oh God, I think I just went blind.
Oh, Pshhhaaawwww! I suppose Noah was one of the cops in the subway.
Oh, Janet, that was BAD.
Riiiight... what's a cubit?
When you think about this, it's really quite deep. All those cops--let's call them "athiests"--require "proof" that the book is yours. Yet Noah built the Ark on faith.
Nah, never mind. I believe the proper response to something like this is "sssssssss."
I laughed anyway.
[wince]
auuuuuugh.
I think my brain has fizzled.
Another groan!
Oh, god, it's like your channeling my father. Dad, dad, is that you?
Hm, when do I stop believing?
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