I've mentioned previously the magical nature of my local library, as well as my habit to raid the fiction section and grab books at random. This incident was a repeat of that, loosely. Let me explain.
First, let it be known that I enjoy Stephen King. There. I said it. I like Stephen King. Very much. But please don't pen me as a fanboy, as in, someone who likes Stephen King because he's Stephen King, much in the way Bantam likes Dean Koontz. Sure, King is a good storyteller, with strong characterization and a nice, no-nonsense narrative that lets the story do its thing; but what draws me to him again and again is the humor laced throughout his writing. There's a charm to it, and that's something both unteachable and inimitable, and a barometer of true-to-the-heart writing, in my opinion.
I have eclectic reading tastes, but every few months or so, I'll get a hankering for some King, no different than a craving for salty foods. So, I've been working through the man's massive catalog that way, devouring a novel or two here and there in between exploring new authors. And near the end of August, I got one such hankering, so I hit up the library (it's not so much that I'm a cheap bastard -- which I am, admittedly -- but that Mr. King probably has enough folding-green to wipe the asses of a small nation). I browsed through their little contingency of King's work, and bemusedly chose Dolores Claiborne, its cover dominated by the cheery image of a morose woman staring down a well, presumably at you, mwahahaha. And though I knew I wanted some King, I chose this novel entirely at random, from about twenty possibles.
Here's a synopsis (and, again, my apologies for spoilers): The book is one big confessional from Ms. Claiborne, an underprivileged Mainer who justifiably murdered her husband during a solar eclipse. And now the part material to my incident: Tucked in the nitty, gritty, slang-ridden narrative, there's an incongruous scene in which Ms. Claiborne hears a woman's discarnate voice saying something or other, which is not explained in the novel.
I read the book, which was satisfying, what I'd come to expect when opening a King novel; and then returned it a couple days later. Upon doing so, however, I found my appetite was not yet satisfied (it was King-sized, you could say, and, yes, I really just said that), so I checked out a second selection, Gerald's Game, this one, too, pulled at random from a pool of twenty or so King novels I haven't read. I'll skip right to the point, here: In Gerald's Game, you find out the source of the bizarre voice Dolores Claiborne hears in her only-loosely connected novel.
And I happened to get the two of them, back to back, without any foreknowledge of King's little Easter Egg. Now, the odds weren't quite as high as the hit I outlined in my "Big Tits" post, but I think the "coincidence" at least bears mentioning.