When I got all A’s, or didn’t talk too much in class (rare), my reward from my father was a brand new Goosebumps book. By his bed, in his car, in the bathroom were 3-4 books he was in the middle of reading. It was through his love of reading that I adopted mine. To this day I can rub the corner of a paperback between my thumb and forefinger and see him nodding off next to me, trying to read a Grisham novel. Goosebumps books were scary, dark, humorous and twisted and they got me through my very own twisted childhood.