Donald walked along the shelves, looked at the books. He knew people actually read these things.
“Maybe just a try,” he thought. “For the laugh of it.”
He grabbed one, pulled it out.
“Ouuuch!” The book fell on the floor. His hand was bleeding. “It… It bit me!”
More books fell out of the shelves. He jumped back. Razor sharp teeth appeared, snapping at him. Attacking him. Biting him.
The biting books came flying after him. He fell, got up on his feet. Crying and screaming he ran out of the library.
Far down the road he fell on the ground, exhausted. He looked back towards the library, but nothing followed.
“Horrible creatures, books,” he said out loud as he watched his bitten arms. “I’ll never go near them again.”
And he never did.