Doesn't the title say it all? Week before last, after letting First Son take the book camping, I was more than ready to get it from him and dive right in. "Hi, honey, I missed you. Where's the book?" Long pause. Crestfallen look. "Uncle X has it." me: "WHAT?!?!"
I won't go into it in depth, but after losing my cool and throwing a fit worthy of a small child, I was brought around to realize that it wasn't First Son's fault. Apparently Uncle X (who is married to Mr. Malaprop's sister and therefore no blood relation) sweet talked the book away from First Son. Uncle X happens to be 6'3" and 220 lbs. Naturally, my son gave it to him but was not too worried as they were all together camping and he figured he'd have plenty of time to get it back. Uncle X "jokes" about mailing it back to him. My son does not remember that part; he has no recollection of giving anyone permission to take the book out of the camp. Did I mention Uncle X lives in Colorado? There is much more to the story including an unsatisfying phone call, but I won't get into it now. In summary, our book is in Colorado and I am still mad about it. Uncle X is the kind of guy who would consider this a joke on me or a coup. He is the kind of man who sees what he wants and takes it and has no remorse for hurt feelings. Too bad for you. Aargh.
Thankfully there were several copies at our family reunion and my sister let me read hers. So at least I know what happens. It was a good book overall, and I'd like to read it again. Oh wait, I CAN'T. And Mr. Malaprop is still waiting, poor guy. Guess I'll have to break down and buy another copy. A pox upon you, Uncle X, for a selfish lout!