Bimbofication Book Novels & Stories

he said tiredly, “if you would please go and get the third edition of Bozkurt’s Second Introduction to Basic Social Forces Governing Modern Packs from the shelf.” I blinked. Well, that was one of the un-sexiest things I’d ever heard someone say. “Uh. Bozkurt. Right.” Standing, my vision went blurry for a moment, like it sometimes did back at the orphanage when there hadn’t been anything to eat that day. I shook off the grey spots and walked a little shakily to the built-in shelves. Bozkurt, Bozkurt… Vincent alphabetised his own library, because of course he did. I finally spotted the world’s least exciting textbook and shimmied it out from the shelf.

There was no other option, he stood up and went to the bookcase, took a random book and opened it on a random page. I need to relax, he thought. A lot has happen resently. IV Albin turned towards the brazier in the middle of the room. The warmth emitted a sense of security and comfort, in the process, heating the whole room and his worried face. A lot of things were on his mind. He moved closer. The brazier casted long dark shadows on his pale faced. The fire jumped in the air. He moved a step back. It moved up and up, stopped above his head, it stood there. Albin looked at the fire; it changed shape, morphed and became that same dragon.

It was the best kind of job for me, I loved it and I got paid weekly, enough to eat, after my first paycheck, I had spent a full week starving, I tried to ask for my money beforehand but my boss who’s the meanest person ever, said no. How could such a cold hearted person be responsible for one of the best places in the world! There was no sleeping with a storm outside, I was up most of the night, I was up early and ready to go to work, I was slipping but pushed it down as I got out of her car and quickly walked over to the bookstore. I walked over to the children's books area, I was thankful no one was around as I sat down in a beanbag after grabbing a few books to read.

On the cover was the word, “Bitten” Raven opened the book and felt a surge of power. The pages looked empty at first but a flash of light lit up behind every word as they appeared. This book had been enchanted. “This is from your father’s library. It contains the tale of the child born of the Bitten and the Born.”

muttered Sumico excitedly. Sumico went on taking a look at Hanny’s other romance novels one by one until she reached a book – not a novel, but it got the similar size with a novel. The title was tickling, somewhat queer, strange, and scary. Sumico turned the book back to read the synopsis for a while.

I asked. Bibi Kamwe moved like a ghost, pulling a book from beneath the floorboards. The cover was made of some kind of dried, dark leather. It creaked when she opened it. The pages were stained, ink running in twisted scrawls. “You must make the vessel,” she said. “What vessel?”

Robin's gaze shot to me, full of doubt and suspicion. When I finally spoke, my voice was quiet yet cut through all the noise. "Are you talking about the bank account you opened with my ID? "It's laughable you'd resort to such a desperate lie. Last month, you withdrew money from that account when you bought a Hermes bag for Andrea, didn't you? So, who exactly is taking kickbacks? Shall I produce the bank statements or retrieve the withdrawal records?" I stared at Norman, enunciating each word. His face grew paler with each question asked.

Bima’s eyes widened as a wild idea took root. "This is it!" Bima exclaimed, his voice hushed. His thumb stopped on a page decorated with an image of Indomie paired with a Wi-Fi icon and a balanced nutrition chart. "Green Signal Indomie Recipe: Anti-Stalker Special!" Bima read the title rapidly. "What is that, Bima?" Riska asked, her eyes fixed on the book. "It’s a secret recipe for the Stalker Zombies!" Bima declared. "It can turn them into agents of balanced nutrition!"

I interrupted firmly. Dad sighed before speaking with unmistakable relief, “Good. Your mother and I never thought that the underboss was reliable to begin with. He’s just a mid-level leader, yet so arrogant. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was the Don.” Then, he continued, “Do you remember Julian Rossi? The mafia boss based in Florence, Italy?” My phone buzzed as he sent me a photo. The man in it was tall and striking, with sharp features and an imposing presence.