We had no luck with the weather and the guests at our table were repellent in every respect. They even spoiled Nietzsche for us. Even after they had had a fatal car accident and had been laid out in the church in Sils, we still hated them.
Thomas Bernhard, “Hotel Waldhaus”
Oh, terrific — Miles Klee has undertaken the arduous, finger-cramping task of typing out the entirety of what I’ve occasionally decided is my “favorite short story.” I was thinking of doing it myself once, but who has that kind of time?
(You can find this and other epic tales in The Voice Imitator, from the University of Chicago Press.)