McNulty and Honey, Frank Weathers, Joe T., Wal-terr, and the Logged-In Public had gathered around the bar.
Isn't anyone going to say anything? I need to get this feature finished.
Father Grindgrad, the spiritual advisor for Internet feature columns, walked into the Attic. He handed the Sardine a message on a piece of paper, which read:
We, the regular characters of A Sardine on Vacation, refuse to speak to the Sardine until further notice.
What's the problem? You can't be pissed off at me now, this far into the feature. It has been more than three years, going on four. We're family.
"I have been designated the spokesman for the group," said the Father. "It seems they, your regular crew, feel betrayed."
I haven't any notion why they could feel that way.
"Are you sure about that?"
My conscience is clean.
"You mean," said the Father slowly, "nothing has been happening in your life. Nothing that concerns all of us. No, don't answer right away. Think about it."
I don't have to think about it.
"Hasn't a book been published under the name A SARDINE ON VACATION?"
Oh, that.
The entire crew at the bar seemed to take a sip from their drinks all at once. I thought that somebody was going to say something. The Father stepped closer to me.
"Now you understand why they are mad?"
Why should they feel "betrayed"? It is a small press publication.
"But the press is located in New York City. You might get readings, even reviews from substantial newspapers and journals."
I doubt it. Do they think I was trying to make money off them? Believe me, the book will not increase my bank account or change my tax return very much.
"It's not that. In fact, despite my talking to you, I feel the most betrayed! Do you remember Episode 16?"
I would have to look it up.
"You won't have to. The title itself will tell all. You called it 'Non-Books.'"
Oh, yes, I remember.
"To paraphrase, you wrote that you would never publish the separate Sardine columns together in a book. That such an enterprise was unworthy of you.
Logged-In Public (crying out): He lied to our faces. After we had made what we thought was an excellent, if not logical suggestion, to try to collect the articles and make it a book, he told us to stuff it. Then he went on and on about all the Non-Books published every year. He even said that most books were Non-Books and not worth his time.
"Settle down, guys," the Father said, "you must keep up a front and not give the Sardine any more material."
"If we can't take you at your word," said Frank, unable to restrain himself, "when can we? As willing participants in the column, we expect to be treated differently from the rest of the world. We expect to know that what you can be counted on to be true, yes, but also that you should mean it. Next thing we'll find is that you vote in elections."
I took advantage of an opportunity, one that I thought I would never have imagined a couple years ago. What I told you back in 2004 was the truth! As of August, 2006, it is no longer true. Circumstances have changed.
"All writers of nonfiction will suffer from this broken promise," said Father Grindgrad. "How will anyone be able to believe anything that the Sardine writes again?"
You can't hold me up to a higher standard based on my own principles! You are making a big deal about one inconsistency. According to your logic, I am bound to do the same for every other thing that I have written.
"I could not have stated it any better. Haven't you stated that the purpose of this column was to create something new and never before experienced by the Logged-In Public?
That would be a fair characterization.
"And didn't you state that the world of syndicated opinion makers was stagnant and lacking proper mental ventilation for its readers? Your Sardine ideas were meant to jolt the reader's expectations."
True, true. I was going to announce to the crew at the bar that a Sardine book had been published, and one of their expectations would have been jolted.
"One another matter, they contend, and I think I agree, that you actually offer nothing less than the type of innovations labeled so precisely 'obsolete' in episode 25. By your logic, all feature columns should take one of two courses: self-annihilation or imitation."
Father, you are twisting my meaning. In fact, the very opposite is the case. I may be an innovation but I am composed to avoid being instantly outdated like most other writing.
"I would like to point out how incompatible syndicated journalism is with post-modernism. Not to mention the utter obsolescence of the your woeful attempt to do so. By publishing a book. Your have violated two principles with one stone."
If you are going to hold the publication of a Sardine book against me, could you at least check the publisher's, Spuyten Duyvil, website and read out the full title.
"That's a funny name for a publisher," said Joe T.
You will be able to buy the book from the website or go directly to Amazon.com and purchase it.
"I believe I caught the Sardine in another blatant violation of its principles," said McNulty. "The Sardine has always abhorred self-promotion."
"I think we should buy a copy and show some support," said Honey to her husband.
"Be quiet," McNulty replied, "we can't break ranks."
"I found it," said Joe T.
What's the subtitle?
"A Non-Book in 53 columns."
You see, a self-admitted Non-Book. Fitting perfectly with my principles. So go take a flying jump at the moon, all of you. Some friends you are. Do you think I would betray you. . .in principle?
"A book's a book," said Frank.
Not if it is a Non-Book. What more do you want from me? I won't bring it up again if it irritates you so much.
Bob Castle is the author of A Sardine on Vacation. He has had two other books published this year: The End of Travel, a comic memoir and send up of traveling abroad (Triple Press) and Odd Pursuits, a collection of stories (Wild Child Publishing). He is regular writer for Bright Lights Film Journal and has over one hundred fifty stories, essays, and articles published. The first fifteen installments of his saga can be viewed at the old Unlikely Stories.