Chapter 18: At the LibraryI went to the Tupelo Public Library after work and picked up a sign-on card from the services desk and sat down at one of their Internet-ready terminals to check my e-mail. The card gave me an hour of Internet and computer usage.
Like most people, my e-mail messages were a collection of junk. No message from my agent, impatient for my vampire-house-eats-unsuspecting-family story. No royalty reports or e-mails about checks in the mail. No publishers inquiring about foreign rights. No big shot Hollywood producers wanting to turn Dead Man’s Lake into a movie. Just endless messages about enlarging my p***s and helping some poor Nigerian bastard transfer a billion dollars out of his country.
I signed into f*******: and found a friend request from Jackson Ledbetter, w
