Part of being way too literal-minded is the occasional bout of being taken in by something that, after discovering its unreality, is so obviously and inherently and unmistakably not-real/not-true/not-possible that one is shamed into avoiding the subject for fear of being discovered a naïve fool who has lost the family jewels in an “Of course this is the Nigerian FBI” swindle. If I were to admit being duped in this way, which I am not, it might entail the following.

Why Paint Cats. How did they get the cats to stay still? Aren’t the dyes harmful when the cats groom themselves? Isn’t the text just a tad too spoof-like? Oh. Never mind.

Gary Benchley, Rock Star. But this was written by Gary Benchley! It said so right in the byline on The Morning News! You mean there really isn’t a Gary Benchley and this is just a novel? Oh. Never mind.