You were sailing aboard the HMS Majestic Rooster on a hateful sea of storms. The local librarian, Mr. Tibbles, tells you that he is unworthy of his responsibility as a master literary person of interest. Upon an act of grievous injustice, the restless book worm throws himself upon a serpentine crucifix to death, and by no surprise, it was gilded with the distasteful emblems of the nautical baron of blood and thunder, Henry Maelstrom. As a consequence of predicable circumstance, the baron strands your maritime vessel upon a generous heap of sand. You grieve for a day.
Surpassing Mr. Tibbles by chance of him impaling himself upon a decorative sconce, you are now in possession of his literature hoard. Comfortably settling into this quaint island with an unlimited collection of literary pieces, you find your survival disgustingly simple. As is the very nature of the baron, he unravels a twist upon your involuntary paradise. Though you are stranded with every literary piece in history, you are horrendously asked, by the unseen baron, to do the unthinkable: get rid of one book.
Recalling that it is yourself swooned into this stranded decision borne from hell, and perhaps even a questionably (silly) murder at hand, what is the one book that would would part with? Know if you cannot part with any, the baron will curse your loins for all eternity, and command rats to gnaw at your most prized possessions. Choose favorably.
