So the weirdest thing happened last night.  Around 9pm, there’s a knock at the door.  It’s the ghost of Anthony Burgess.  He says excuse me, and brushes past, just lets himself in.  Floats over to the bookshelf.  Nose up, dit duh dit duh doo, aha, he finds it.  A paperback copy of A Clockwork Orange.

Look, the Burgess spectre says, translucent against the venetian blinds, this isn’t one of my best works, not at all.  I don’t like all the attention, or how it was adapted for the screen.  Frankly, I don’t want to be known for it anymore.  So, I’m going around to everyone who’s ever purchased a copy, and deleting it from their libraries.  I don’t care if you bought it legit.  I just don’t want it out there!

And with a gruff Cheerio! the poltergeist drifted out my front door, novel in hand.