Excerpt:

It is something to be noted, when one is burning books, that romance novels make exceptional kindling. Medical journals, dictionaries and other such informative volumes are more suited for longer lasting fires, but without the spark of romance, most attempted blazes come to nothing. The man chugging whisky beside one of the most infamous book bonfires in history was well practiced in the art of literary bonfires, and legend has it that he was able to distinguish between the flames produced by a first edition Twain and a paperback Dickens anthology. Not the most amazing of feats perhaps, unless one takes into consideration that he could do so blindfolded. So the legends say. No one can say for sure however, as the man himself was illiterate, and was so devout in his book burning ways that he destroyed all recorded history of himself. This story is not about him however, so it isn't too upsetting to learn that on the night of this legendary blaze, being a little more inebriated than usual, and a little less sure of footing, his left foot entered into a battle of wills with a rather large chunk of granite, and, being a sore loser, chose to fling itself into the nearby fire.