The following entry is being cross posted from local playwright, Jack Neary’s own blog, Shards.

I stepped on my Kindle.

This is one of the main things you should not do with your Kindle. Step on it. When you step on it, it stops being a Kindle. The only thing it’s really good for after you step on it is throwing it at librarians. Because it would be really ironic. Other than that, though, a stepped-on Kindle is useless.

I’ve stepped on a few books in my life, and the books remained readable. Not the Kindle. They don’t tell you that when you buy the Kindle. They don’t say, “Hey, you can’t step on this thing, you know.” If they had said that, I probably would have stepped on it anyway, because who thinks he’s ever gonna step on his Kindle? Not me, baby. I had gotten into the habit of placing my Kindle on the floor beside my bed (because my night stand, which is a stool, can hold only my radio alarm clock, my reading glasses, and my iPhone), and I was diligently leaning up and over my bed to put my DVDs in alphabetical order…What, you don’t have your DVDs in alphabetical order? What’s the matter with you?…and after I had squeezed MUTINY ON THE BOUNTY (1935) between THE MUSIC MAN (1962) and MY COUSIN VINNY (1992), I leaned back to admire my assiduousness and heard a tiny little “crack,” which was my Kindle turning into a large coaster.

I contacted Amazon and, amazingly, even though the warranty had expired, they reported that they would replace my $350 Kindle for $89. I thought this was a good deal. But then I realized the brand new up-to-date generation Kindle was $189, so I ordered that one. It’s smaller, I understand, which gives me a little better chance of not stepping on it.

But I’m guaranteeing nothing.

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I just received a call on my cell phone. I monitored it, because I didn’t recognize the number. When I checked the voice mail, I was advised that the call came from “Beverly Hills, California.” Cool, I thought. Maybe my ship had finally come in. When my ship comes in, I am convinced it will come in via telephone. People don’t write letters or send emails when they have “your ship has come in” type news. They call. I never look for anything exciting in the mail. But when the phone rings and it’s from “Beverly Hills, California,” there’s always the possibility that something I wrote, somewhere out there, has been discovered and I will not have to go on relief. Or whatever destitution is called these days.

Well, it wasn’t that kind of news, but it wasn’t bad. It was Warner Bros., or somebody affiliated somehow with the Ben Affleck film, THE TOWN, inviting me to the premiere, which is going to be held in Boston on September 14. I had a couple of days as an actor on the film and when I returned the voice mail and learned about the invite, I asked the person if this meant my scene had made it into the movie. She couldn’t promise me that, but she could promise me two tickets to the premiere. This is good. I may even shower that day.

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I have switched my dinner hour repeats viewing from SEINFELD to THE OFFICE. My God, are those shows funny! I really think they should stop filming when Steve Carrell leaves after this season. Not that the writers and producers couldn’t still come up with more funny situations but…what they’ll have accumulated after seven or eight seasons, or whatever it is, is so GOOD, it could only be comparably lame, in my opinion. Gervais stopped his British OFFICE after two and a half seasons, and it’s considered a classic. I think this American OFFICE will eventually be considered a classic series as well. So why not stop with Carrell’s final episode? Please!!!!

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I’m ready to read the sequel to THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO.

But I can’t.

I stepped on my Kindle.

And that’s where the book is.

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Now that I live in New Hampshire, it’s become necessary for me to fling dog shit over the fence. I never did this in Lowell. I did encounter dog shit in Lowell, because the people who moved in downstairs had a dog and he would “contribute” to the front yard, but if I had flung his dog shit over the fence, it would have landed on the windshield of passing Nissan Sentras and would not have been appreciated. In Derry, though, our backyard fence features, on its other side, a mini-forest that belongs to my brother and sister-in-law and when Eddie and Timmy (the dogs) “contribute,” all we have to do is get the little dog shit shovel and flick the DS over the fence into our mini-forest. My first two or three attempts were somewhat hazardous, in that I was using way too much wrist. When you are flinging dog shit over the fence, you MUST keep the wrist out of it. Or wear goggles. The wrist just makes the flinging way too treacherous. No. What you must do to properly fling dog shit over the fence, is you treat the little shovel like a shot put, stiffen your arm, brace your legs, and “put” the shit, with a hearty thrust, over the fence. I have to admit, I’ve become very good at this, so if you need a lesson in dog shit thrusting, please, give me a call. My rates are very reasonable.

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