How I Broke the Heart of an English Teacher

I didn't mean to, I swear! It just happened. See, there's this English teacher. She doesn't teach me English; she teaches in the high school, and I am a humble middle schooler. But she's a cool person. She enjoys Tolkien and Harry Potter. And her classroom has books in it. 
See, you may not know this about me, but I like books. I would go to great lengths to get my hands on a book to read. I would climb the Cliffs of Insanity if I thought there were books at the top, even if slipping would mean falling into a bottomless pit full of burning lava and I would die horrible and painfully! 

I like using the Cliffs of Insanity in my pictures; they're so easy to draw!

And recently I've been running out of books to read. So I braved the a high school English classroom and asked to look through the books. The teacher said yes, and showed me all these books she liked. They were about missionaries and martyrs and stuff. A couple of them were by C.S. Lewis. I'm sure they were all great books. 
But then I saw this book:

I have never read anything by Jane Austen except for the first chapter of Emma, which bored me. But because I am a horrible person with a deep and utterly unrequited love for zombies, I was all like: 

Well, maybe not quite like that, but you get the picture. Being a Jane Austen fan, this teacher told me that she didn't like the book and suggested I read the original; nevertheless, I decided to borrow it. I wondered, as I told her this, if she would be disappointed in me. 

"My heart is breaking a little," she said. 

Oops. 

Sorry, Mrs. K! 

***

In utterly unrelated news, for my good deed of the day I taught a fourth grader the word "lobotomy." I like expanding the vocabularies of the young.