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27th Oct 2017

I fulfilled my childhood dream of making a secret book compartment

You thought I was reading? Nope.

Ciara Knight

Nerds, look away now. 

As a child, there were several things that I always wanted but was never indulged. My parents’ love, Sunny D, sweets for breakfast, a trip to Disneyland or failing that, the shitty amusement park nearby, etc.

Something that grabbed my attention like no other was the art of deception. I once saw a fake book compartment on TV and was obsessed with the concept of deceit. I begged my parents to allow me to destroy one of their shitty books so that I could cement my position as a certified spy. They denied me the opportunity, told me that I couldn’t ruin a good book and I certainly couldn’t have access to the tools necessary to carry out the production (a knife of any description).

I moved on, grew up, went to college and even managed to get a job. All was forgotten. Then a few weeks ago, someone sent me a book.

I’ve taken the cover off the book because I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings here. I got sent this book into work which I am very grateful for. I read it all and it was very good, but now I’m in a position where I need to either pass it on to someone else or keep it at home where it’s unlikely I’ll ever read it again. Although, there’s also a third option. Maybe I could fulfil my childhood dream and make a secret compartment? Sounds like a stupid idea. Oh well, too late. I’ve already done it.

I opened the first page of the book and decided to trace my phone onto it. It wasn’t an easy decision to make it phone sized, as ideally I would use the secret compartment to house a small bottle of brandy or a handgun, but neither were at my disposal at the time. A phone made sense. It’s got everything at the touch of a button, plus it’s 2017 and nothing else really matters.

I quickly realised that if I were to make a secret book compartment true to those that I had seen on TV when I was younger, I’d need to put it midway through the book, to throw potential thieves off the scent. I quickly amended my unforgivable mistake.

Page 113 seemed like a good place to start the concealed pocket. It was close to halfway through and it’s a pretty solid number. I outlined my phone once again and then went on the hunt for the most suitable implement. The work kitchen’s offerings were restricting, so I settled on a very large sharp knife. I was nervous about walking through the office wielding a knife, but nobody took any notice which speaks volumes about my character and also the broad acceptance of suspicious activity around here.

I used the very sharp knife to pierce through the book and quickly realised that what I was doing was incredibly dangerous, yet vital for the survival of journalism. Despite pressing the knife as hard as I could into the paper, I could only pierce through one page successfully. I took a step back and reassessed. Was this the correct way to go about the task? Is this what I did a Masters for? Should I go on the hunt for more tools?

Again, I strolled through the office with a variety of dangerous objects to the concern of absolutely nobody. I then settled into some means testing with each implement and discovered one clear winner. It was an unexpected win for one of these items pictured above. Place your bets now. Okay that’s time. No more bets please.

It was the cheese knife! The serrated edge clinched the win, as it provided some friction to allow me to go in deeper than one page at a time. I’ve gone my whole life not knowing which type of knife would best hack into a book, but today I learned that it is a cheese knife. Regardless of how this all ends, it’s important to acknowledge that we can, at the very least, take that necessary information away with us.

I continued cutting for quite some time until I had reached the same depth as my phone. I slicing through roughly four or five pages at a time with this masterful knife, so it didn’t take too long after that. A bit of a crowd gathered to observe what bullshit I was up to this time (all in the name of work), but I refused to allow it to distract me from my end goal. Truly, my haters are my motivators and my nosy co-workers are my distracting lurkers.

It wasn’t beautiful, but it was something. I had done it and avoided any of the major injuries that my parents had harshly forecasted when I was a child. See? I can be responsible. I can hold down a job and somehow classify this as work. I am a grown up. I can hack into a book using a cheese knife and escape with one very minor piercing of the skin from a teeny tiny slippage of the blade.

Look at that. It fits like a glove. I did that. Me. The clown whom once injected a banana with steak sauce. Now it was time to adapt to my newfound life with a secret book compartment. The possibilities were endless. Everyone was looking to me for guidance. Sure, I’d passed the first hurdle of making the thing. But what next? Where can you possibly go from there?

Check it out, just a regular person with sausage fingers reading a book. I wonder what book it is? It doesn’t even have a cover, so it must be pretty interesting. Perhaps it is Tolstoy or the Encyclopaedia Britannica letters H-I. I assume the reader is quite smart because as we all know, books are solely reserved for intellectuals. There is nothing untoward going on here. I shall carry on about my business.

HAHA YOU JUST GOT PRANKED SO HARD! I’m not reading, I’m looking at indecent images of Shrek. Look how red your face has gone you big idiot, you actually thought that I was reading a book? What a loser. I’ve been scrolling through these pictures for the past ten minutes, you didn’t even know.

Hazing aside. Let’s see what else this secret book compartment can do.

You thought I was reading? Nope. I was using my Magic Mouse to scroll through some dank memes on the computer screen behind you. I also clicked through all your Facebook profile pictures and they were so basic it brought a tear to my eye. That summer your spent volunteering in Namibia was a real goldmine for content, you vain piece of trash.

You thought I was reading? Nope. I was reading the ingredients on my lip balm to ensure that I wouldn’t have an allergic reaction when I use it. Turns out it’s made from natural ingredients and wasn’t tested on animals during production – WIN!

You thought I was reading? Nope. I was using my body heat to soften some butter I was given in a restaurant that seems to have come out of the iciest place on Earth, perfect for spreading and ease of use. Once this butter has sufficiently melted, I shall calmly close my book and butter my bread. A nearby child will believe that I have just pulled three packets of butter out of a book, which indeed I will have.

You thought I was reading? Nope. I was keeping a beer on hand just before I open it to consume its wheaty goodness. From the outside it may have appeared as though I was enjoying a good book, but I was merely taking a moment to thank the Lord for providing me with the ability to purchase beer on this special day, the day that I have made a secret book compartment.

You thought I was reading? Nope. I was keeping my saucepan hidden from my housemates who keep using it to cook fish and then clean it so insufficiently that it continues to smell like fish from now until the end of time. I’ve run out of places to hide it, so this secret book compartment couldn’t have come quick enough.

You thought I was reading? Nope. I was hiding my work chair that mysteriously goes missing every time I leave the office. I’m pretty sure it’s Carol from Finance but I’ve no concrete way to prove it. I could just ask, but I’m not a very confrontational person. I could stick a label on it alerting people to the fact that it’s mine, but that might come across as petty. No, it’ll stay in my secret book compartment for now.

You thought I was reading? Well you are correct. I am reading, but it’s not the book, it’s an eBook because the year is 2017 and everything should be digital now anyway. Truly, I have committed the double bluff here. I am indeed reading, but it is not what you initially believed that I was. This secret book compartment is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

So where do we go from here? What we’ve learned is that there is simply nothing more important in life than living out your childhood dreams during adulthood because it’s still as exciting if not more so and you have a slightly increased level of maturity which allows you to carry out the task in a more responsible manner.

Also, I can now use the bits of book that I cut out as a more portable means of reading. A mini book, if you will.

Thank you for joining me on this important journey.

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