[Unless you have a t-shirt that says, "Buddha Burger," you don't need any props for this one.]
Excuse me [run hands through your hair, look disheveled and wild-eyed, confused.] Have you seen a talking garden gnome and / or a Mexican-American dwarf clutching an inhaler? The dwarf might have asked you if he could use your cell phone to call his mom. Which way did they go? [Wait for response.] That is _not_ helping me. Why the funny looks? Okay, sorry, I'll slow down, but if you see anything resembling fire giants or a Wizard of Reckoning -- you'll know him when you see him -- tell me immediately. So, I'm Cameron, and I've been diagnosed with mad cow disease. Those last two wusses who booktalked to you got nothing on me. See, their diseases were just physical: blindness and leukemia. Mine is BOTH physically and mentally degenerative: yeah, both my body and my mind are going to hell in handbasket. I won the sickness lottery. But I'm on a quest, too. I'm trying to find Dr. X, who learned to travel through both space and time. I'm trying to fight this dark energy that is attacking both my brain and this world of ours [hence those nasty fire giants]. Yes, I'm crazy but I'm also not. You have to be a little crazy to live in this world, and you have to be even crazier _not_ to search for meaning. So even if I don't find Dr. X, I hope to find out what all this _means_ before I die. Don't look so glum. I'm funny as heck, trust me. So are the gnome and the dwarf, when they're not being pains in the you-know-what. Read Going Bovine by Libby Bray, and don't forget to suspend your disbelief.
Going Bovine by Libby Bray. 480 p. Delacorte Press, 2009. Booktalk this only after reading every single page, seriously. Upper high school, college, adult.
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