Lightning Jack London

It was one of those hardback, thousandth reprint classics. Call Of The Wild by Jack London. Luckily for my wildly hard to control attention span at the time was sated by a few illustrations peppered in to keep it at bay. It was bought at a Borders in a strip mall in the middle of nowhere, Tracy. I cracked it open about two hours after the mall closed, still sitting in one of the atria of the mall, where my parents were getting their hair done by a friend at a Regis salon. There were these giant black crickets that ventured out from any place you wouldn't expect something to crawl out of. The front cover was beautifully painted, with hues of red and blue from the sky to the snowy ground. At the time, I thought it was the longest book ever written, since it was over 100 pages.