Holy bajeebus!
Anne Maloney has uncovered the worst opening for a literary work. It shows up in a Robin Hood book, but would be equally unsuitable for anything, anywhere, ever.

Hagar told me once that when a man dies his whole life passes before him in a series of colored pictures. I wondered then how she knew, being herself not yet dead.

"We who bear the mark know many things, my youngling," she smiled.

I remember her face as she said that, and the sweet milky scent of her breast as she guided the nipple towards my mouth. So I could not have been more than two or three years old at the time, as children are usually weaned around that age in our part of the world.

I think my father must have come in then, for she shook her hair modestly over her shoulder and began to croon gently as if she had noticed nothing; but her eyes slanted toward the doorway and the nipple in my mouth grew hard.

Can you imagine opening a book and being greeted with that? Worse, can you imagine picking up an innocuous Robin Hood book to get the li'l tyke to get to sleep and blindly reading that abomination of the English language aloud? Holy bajeebus indeed!  ¶ 11:19 a.m.