“Mr. Pierce,

I feel compelled to let you in on something you inadvertently caused to happen today.

First, I woke up with an overwhelming desire to re-read your short story, “Cat Brain Land.”

I have recently gone through a rough break up that was unhappily punctuated by the death of my pet rat, Michael Jackson (he was black and white).

When I read the line in your story: “I was standing in the doorway of a breakdown with a dead cat and soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend pushing at my back” I let out a rather loud guffaw, and screamed “Holy Fucking SHIT!” very loudly, which led to my upstairs neighbor pounding on the floor, which led to me dropping the book on my shoes, which I noticed were both untied.

So, thank you. Your writing saved my life today, as tripping on shoelaces can easily lead to my being impaled grotesquely upon something, like a stray railroad spike or fencepost.”

-an email received from Dustin Reade