You may read these stories with an open heart. You may elect not to read these stories, or keep your heart closed during the reading of them. You may not use print-outs of these stories to create a ransom letter. You may wet hard copies of these stories and wrap them on your self and let them dry, like papier-mâché. Afterwards the stories will have taken on the shape of your body. You may not use these stories to hurt celebrities. You may take these stories and submit them as your English homework (however, you must tell me what mark you get). You may put print-outs of these stories in your compost bin. Small quantities of paper decompose quite effectively. They will help plants grow. You may show these stories to your granny and tell her that you wrote them. You may not use these stories to guess my humour. You may not use these stories to define trends on the Internet. You may not impregnate unmarried girls using the power of these stories. You may rearrange sentences in these stories to make new stories. You may not become a famous writer off the back of these stories (or rather, you will not become a famous writer off the back of these stories). You may suggest improvements, correct typographical errors, spelling errors, factual errors, errors born out of pride and ignorance and weekday tiredness. You may read these stories aloud on the bus. You may read them aloud in your bedroom. If your mother asks who you’re talking to you must say “The wind!” even though it’s embarrassing. You may not read these stories down at the old quarry. You’ve been told it’s not safe there. You may create non-profit derivations of these stories in any medium, but I would like to see them if you do.