VIP Paddock

Two heavy hardcover books were propped against the base of the bookcase, forming a perfect wedge-shaped garage right at floor level. Even a superstar monster shark needs a private VIP paddock to recharge after a high-octane day, and this sheltered nook was calling my name. I shifted into low gear, aligned my knobby turquoise wheels, and eased in reverse beneath the angled book covers. My dorsal fin cleared the paper dust jackets with room to spare, while the sturdy cloth spine of an encyclopedia created a solid backstop behind my rear axle. Tucked securely inside my quiet shelter, I cut the throttle and let my suspension settle down.