A Venti-Sized Order of Depresso

Holy crap, I found a pair of the most depressing books mankind has ever produced in a free leftovers bin after a Temescal neighborhood garage sale today. Here's a pic, get ready...

Jeez, they're children's books too! Here's a rundown of the most heart-crushing lines in the books.

From Mom and Dad Don't Live Together Any More:

"If I had a whishbone I would wish for us to all live together again. Mommy and Daddy say that will never happen. But I still wish it sometimes."

"Mom, when I grow up, will I get married and then get apart?"

"I love my mommy and my daddy. My mommy and my daddy love me too. Just not together."

From My Mother Lost Her Job Today:

"I go outside and pick some dandelions. Fat ones with long stems. When I come in, I give them to my mom to make her feel better. She sets them on the counter instead of putting them in water. She doesn't even say 'thank you'."

In Mom and Dad, whether intentionally or not, the illustrations of the girl whose life has been torn asunder by her parents' separation show a face devoid of expression, eyes dead and soulless, as if saying to children reading it "This'll be you after mommy runs off with the Schwan's man and daddy starts taking more and more frequent trips to Bangkok. Get used to it, kid."

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There's a strange visitor in the house as I type this: a fluffy little cat seemingly suffering from a case of bipolar disorder. Or whatever the equivalent is in felines. We haven't a clue who she belongs to, but she normally hangs out with an orange spotted cat in the area and loves to traverse fences and roofs as her primary avenue of travel. She's been reluctant to enter our house so I gave her some milk in a yogurt top the other day to lure her inside. She left shortly after finishing that time, but tonight is different. I estimate she's been sitting here for upwards of two hours and doesn't want to go, which is starting to be an issue.

The problem is that she's incredibly loud and unpredictable. One moment she's mewing her head off and rubbing against your leg, then the next, when you reach to pet her, she attacks and hisses. Maia's got a few nasty stab wounds while I have a single prick. We haven't a clue what will and won't set her off. I tried to show her the door a while back only to find she didn't care to exit and I'm too afraid to go pick her up and toss her out. I guess it'll have to be a tray of milk on the porch finally to lure her outside.

--Matt