You get closer to the spinning vortex. The rug slides under your feet as you’re pulled closer to this enchanted copy of Where the Red Fern Grows. Sounds from the book world echo throughout your bedroom. The barks of “coonhounds.” The bloody screams of a man tripping over his axe and dying, like a goddamn chump. The sounds of a red fern, planted by an angel, growing slowly and painfully in the Ozarks.
You turn around and grab the Angry Birds quilt on your bed, hoping to steady yourself. Unfortunately, you’ve never made your bed before, so all you do is drag the blanket off the bed as you fall into the portal…
But something strange happens. The portal isn’t wide enough for both you and the quilt. Your upper torso is still inside your bedroom, along with half the blanket. Your lower half is trapped inside the book. You are now effectively half kid, half book. With your dodgeball-enhanced upper arm strength, you manage to crawl off your desk, drag yourself to the bedroom door, and bang for help.
After 17 hours in the emergency room, a team of skilled surgeons manage to extract you from Where the Red Fern Grows. Apparently “book vortexes” are more common than the publishing industry and the liberal education complex wants us to know. Due to the traumatic experience, you’re no longer required to read any books in school. Your multimillion dollar lawsuit against Penguin Random House is still pending.