Okay... it doesn't really exist. It was an inside joke between myself and daen.
See, there was one night when I was having rather odd dreams. And just before I woke up I dreamed that I walked out of my bedroom into the living room (I'm in an apartment) and saw her sitting in the oversized blue chair, reading a book while her cat slept next to her on the seat. This is, in fact, a fairly normal occurence as she reads more than I do. There really wasn't anything more to the dream than that, except that the title of the book was "Post From an Undying Duck".
My girlfriend's reading tastes are a bit different from mine, and I had the impression that it was by some obscure British author. At that point I awoke and lay there for a second, with that title still in my head, and tried to make sense of it. Post? What kind of post? A letter delivered by post? Or maybe a post to a website? And what the hell is an undying duck? The more I thought about it the funnier it got.
Ultimately I wrote a short story for her based on this dream, so in a sense it does exist, but not as a book, and not by an Englishman with an obscene last name.
Heh. If you're really curious about it, email me (oldforger@yahoo.com) and I'll send you a copy of the story, although I suspect that it was more amusing to my girlfriend than it would be to anyone else...
See, there was one night when I was having rather odd dreams. And just before I woke up I dreamed that I walked out of my bedroom into the living room (I'm in an apartment) and saw her sitting in the oversized blue chair, reading a book while her cat slept next to her on the seat. This is, in fact, a fairly normal occurence as she reads more than I do. There really wasn't anything more to the dream than that, except that the title of the book was "Post From an Undying Duck".
My girlfriend's reading tastes are a bit different from mine, and I had the impression that it was by some obscure British author. At that point I awoke and lay there for a second, with that title still in my head, and tried to make sense of it. Post? What kind of post? A letter delivered by post? Or maybe a post to a website? And what the hell is an undying duck? The more I thought about it the funnier it got.
Ultimately I wrote a short story for her based on this dream, so in a sense it does exist, but not as a book, and not by an Englishman with an obscene last name.
Heh. If you're really curious about it, email me (oldforger@yahoo.com) and I'll send you a copy of the story, although I suspect that it was more amusing to my girlfriend than it would be to anyone else...