Books Unfolded
The bookmobile shuttered to a stop. The grinding of the parking brake settled the large lumbering vehicle like an elephant stopping from a run to get a drink. The body shook as someone moved within.
Read MoreThe bookmobile shuttered to a stop. The grinding of the parking brake settled the large lumbering vehicle like an elephant stopping from a run to get a drink. The body shook as someone moved within.
Read MoreThe library asks that you not go into the study room alone unless you want to stay that way.
Read MoreMr Jacobs's bright orange hair cleared the reference desk. It stuck out in spikes, three inch tubes that tapered to fine waxed points here and there. The face paint smeared itself on the mask just under his big red nose.
Read MoreThe baying of hounds began the hunt. They howled and raged and pulled at their leashes. Behind them a large man in a fur cloak filled the library door. He snapped the heavy leather that wrapped around their necks.
"Hunt, my hounds," he said in a deep bass that rattled the metal shelving.
Read MoreThe sound came from the nonfiction stacks. A lovely sound, low and feminine. The kind of sound that starts in the chest and rises not to escape the throat, but to leave it wanting.
It had been a long day. The reference librarian had been yelled at over masks, over food, and over noise. He was over confronting patrons.
Read More"No, that's not true. That can't be true!" a patron screamed from the reference section.
The reference librarian walked to the reference desk, no hurry, and picked up the phone.
"You calling the police?" the circulation librarian asked.
"Naw, gotta call the Family," the reference librarian said.
Read More"If that's true, I'll cut you," the reference librarian said holding her best knife in one hand and an axe in the other.
The director nodded, saying, "Yeah, it looks like it might be the case."
"But we need pages," the reference librarian said.
"Not as much as we need computers. Or books."
Read MoreOne morning the reference librarian found a body by the book drop. Older gentleman slumped over like he got real tired after a marathon and just crumpled. Sometimes running a long life can do that.
The paramedics took him away on a stretcher. The children's librarian thought she would get to see one of those black bags, but they just loaded him up and slipped a white sheet over his pale form. Later we found out it was a heart attack.
Read MoreWe never noticed the art in the library. All those paintings and little sculptures that seemed to come with the walls. The faces blended in the best.
Read MoreThe library shelving robot was drunk. Or whatever you would call a robot swerving around the library throwing books at patrons.
Read More"I don't understand. Where did the money come from?" the children's librarian said.
The reference librarian leaned back and nodded to the circulation librarian out working the curbside table. "Her."
"She's barely been here two weeks. Has she even met with the director?"
"Well, not her exactly. Seems our previous circulation staff budget was embellished by the tenure of our old coworker."
"She costs less so we get a new page."
"Bingo," the reference librarian said.
The children's librarian pushed back a lock of golden hair from her forehead. "Has anyone told Freddy?"
Before the reference librarian could respond, the circulation librarian called out to them. They rose and went outside.
"I'm so glad to meet you both," a woman said from across the curbside table. Older with a yellow baseball cap and a matching mask. "My daddy loved you both so much. Talked about you all the time. He passed away yesterday in his sleep."
The librarians introduced themselves. The children's librarian took the lead, saying, "I'm so sorry, but who was your father?"
"You must think me silly. Sheila Anchor. My daddy was Ansel Anchor."
"I'm sorry to hear about your loss," the children's librarian said. "Seems so sudden. He was just here this weekend."
"That art class made his toes curl. He talked about framing that picture he drew. We couldn't find it, though. Is it still here?" Sheila said.
The reference librarian said, "It could be in the meeting room. The art teacher left her supplies and things."
A severe looking man with gray hairs and no mask on his face said, "Excuse me. Don't mean to break up the memorial service, but I need some damn books."
The circulation librarian waved to him. They began talking at the other end of the table.
The children's librarian said, "We can go check."
The reference librarian hesitated, but she took his arm. They went inside. As they crossed to the meeting room, he said, "Shouldn't someone stay out there with Julie?"
"You wanna see what they painted in there?"
"Fair enough."
"Seems odd him dying like that."
"Old man dies in his sleep. Not that odd. Pleasant, really," the reference librarian said unlocking the meeting room door.
She said, "How will we know which is his?"
"Check for the signature 'Old Cranky Bastard' down at the bottom."
Except the meeting room was empty. No art supplies. No canvases. No paints. No easels. Nothing in the small kitchen either.
The reference librarian said, "Maybe she took it out the fire door?"
"Without a key? We would have heard the alarm," the children's librarian said.
Back at the table, they explained the art teacher must have the paintings and again offered their condolences. Sheila Anchor left, thanking them for treating her father so well during his last days. They promised to talk to the art teacher and put them in touch.
At the other end of the table, the maskless man said, "I don't have to. I been vaccinated so just give me my damn books."
"I still need your card number, sir. Or your name," the circulation librarian said.
The man stuck his finger in the librarian's face. "I'm gonna get you." His finger drifted to each of them. "All of you. I been vaccinated."
Then he left. The librarians were speechless.
The reference librarian let the art teacher into the library at ten on saturday. Old Man Anchor was dead twenty-four hours later.
"My Christopher, you look good enough to eat," the art teacher told the reference librarian.
The reference librarian said, "Well, thank you. I might give you indigestion, though."
The children's librarian felt her blood run cold. She said, "I thought your class started at noon?"
They stood by the table for curbside pickup. A light morning rain pitter pattered down. Breaks in the clouds showed signs of sunshine coming later in the day.
The art teacher flashed her teeth. "I thought I would prepare. Some of my students are known to come early."
The reference librarian let her into the library. The children's librarian watched them walk into the dark building. Her arm was linked to his, and they laughed like old friends.
Around eleven, a couple came to the curbside table. The children's librarian greeted them and thanked them for wearing the black masks over their noses and mouths. They had the same dark hair and color-catching gray eyes of the art teacher. The man had on a brown hoodie that gave his eyes tan flecks while the woman's blue wrap over a white dress lit her face up. They walked past her. The reference librarian led them to the meeting room.
At eleven forty-five, Old Man Anchor came to the library. The sun had come out, just a few dark clouds in the sky dropping heavy rain drops. He said, "Damn old devil is beating his wife today."
"Excuse me?" the children's librarian said.
"The devil beating his wife."
"I guess I don't know the devil was married."
The old man grimaced. "I'm here for the art class."
"Us, too," said a young woman. Two of them, each holding big sketch pads under their arms with sorority ribbons in their hair.
"Well, then I guess we should let you in," the children's librarian said with an uneasy smile.
The reference librarian went to lead them back, but the children's librarian waved him off. When they got to the meeting room, the door was locked. Before she could get her key, the door opened.
"Well, Mr. Anchor. Look at you. Little rain on you, I see," the art teacher said from the dark meeting room. She stepped into the light. She wore a dark red robe that draped around her shoulders.
"Miss Karryn," the old man said, wiping at the water on his shoulders. "Devil's beating his wife out there."
The art teacher took him by the arm. "My daddy used to say that about sunshowers. 'Karryn, baby, when a day is so pretty the devil just has to take it out on someone and make it rain.'"
Old Man Anchor smiled and let himself be led into the meeting room. The college girls followed. The children's librarian started to follow, but the art teacher came back and blocked her way.
"Sorry, but I'm always a bit shy when I model for students. Do you mind if we have privacy?" the art teacher said. She pulled her robe up on her shoulder.
"Model?" the children's librarian said.
"The human form. Once you understand that, you can make art from just about anything."
"Nude modeling?"
"Well, modest."
"Nude modeling in the library?"
The art teacher gave a smile. Then she closed the door.
The children's librarian told the door, "Please don't lock the door. Fire codes."
Back at curbside, the children's librarian told the reference librarian, "She's doing nude modeling back there. Told her not to lock the door."
"Because of the fire codes," the reference librarian said.
"Yeah."
"The director did approve the program."
"He did," the children's librarian said.
After lunch until about two, with the sun out and the puddles evaporating in lazy mist, people came to get their holds. Young and old, singles and families. The librarians were busy. So busy they did not hear the sudden screams die down to moans in the meeting room.
Around three, the clouds came back. The two college girls and the old man left first. They walked slow and silent from the building, pale and dazed. The couple came next, smiling and hugging one another. They waved and told the reference librarian they would love to have him at the next meeting.
The art teacher left last. She nodded to the children's librarian and whispered something to the reference librarian.
"What did she say?" the children's librarian said.
"The reference librarian said, "That she looked forward to next month. Thanks for letting her use the library."
The children's librarian believed he was lying.
"So you can have a damn art class while I can't come in and check on the Wall Street Journal?" Old man Anchor said.
The children's librarian held a hand over her eyes to block the rays of the sunset behind the old man. "The art class is a special program from outside the library."
"Where's the Journal come from? Huh? Y'all print it out back?"
"As we told you last week, we put a hold on all print subscriptions when we closed."
"Closed." Anchor spat a thick glob in the bushes by the curbside table. "I pay your salary with my taxes. You ain't serving shit. Just standing behind this table with your books."
"Would you like to check out a book? Or I can tell you how to access the Wall Street Journal online?" the children's librarian said.
"Ain't got no online. You think I can pay for a computer after they take out all those taxes and pay for nothing you give me?"
The children's librarian summoned visions of children. Squeals of books at curbside. Little faces staring out from a computer screen. Small masks on little faces over bright eyes while being read to on the library lawn over the summer. As the sun dipped below the horizon, she could see the old man more clear.
"Where is your mask, Mr. Anchor?" The children's librarian said.
He spat again. "I got that shot. Been vaccinated."
"I still need you to wear a mask for us at the table. Sorry, sir."
"Oh, sure. Useless. I hope they close this whole place down. Never did nothing for me," the old man said.
"You have been vaccinated?" a woman said.
The old man and the children's librarian turned to find a woman standing near the table. The art teacher stood in dark maroon. She wore a shawl over her black hair and a mask over her nose and mouth. She had wrapped her body in deep red folds. The children's librarian found herself staring at the grey of the woman's eyes, how they picked up the red and turned them a warm purple.
"Who're you?" the old man said.
"Mr. Anchor, this is the art teacher. Karryn…" The children's librarian paused, not knowing the art teacher's last name.
The art teacher did not give it. She only reached out a hand with long manicured nails. "Charmed, Mr. Anchor."
The old man's face screwed up. But he took her hand in a light grip. The children's librarian thought he would bend down to kiss it. His shoulders slumped and his face relaxed into a gentle smile. The librarian wondered how long it had been that someone had touched him.
"Nice to meet you," he said in a low tone. Face to face, the world seemed to melt away. The children's librarian wanted to leave feeling like something intimate was going on.
"So you have been vaccinated?" the art teacher said.
"Second shot later today," he said.
"So healthy and strong. Smart, too, reading the Wall Street Journal," she said.
The old man shook his head. "No, no. Just keeping an eye on my stocks."
"Preparing for the future. Clever, too. There's a few like you in my art class. Maybe you would like to join us?"
"Ain't good at drawing. No supplies either, miss."
The art teacher put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure I have some to spare. I promise you, it will be rejuvenating."
"Okay," the old man said. He nodded like a child while smiling.
"Remember to wear a mask because we shall be inside, Mr. Anchor," the art teacher said.
"Yes, ma'am."
"See you Saturday, then."
The old man backed away from the table. Smiling and nodding. "See you then, ma'am." He paid no attention to the children's librarian as he left.
The art teacher took a small bottle of hand sanitizer from the table and rubbed her hands together slowly. The children's librarian felt the woman's gaze, those purple eyes, on her. An alarm went off in the back of her mind.
"Thanks," the children's librarian said, looking away.
The art teacher said, "Men are just boys who forgot how to be tender. I have no doubt I'll see him again. Now, I have some supplies I would like to drop off. Do you mind if I bring them in?"
"Of course," the children's librarian said and moved the table aside.
The circulation librarian did not like the look of the art teacher named Karryn. Nothing in particular stood out as art teacher's went. Cute black dress with some necklaces and bracelets that drew the eye and made little tinny sounds. Cute black hair cut in a bob that landed just below her ears where simple silver loops hung. Cute pea coat and cute strappy shoes and a cute tote bag that said "Where my art bitches at?"
When Karryn the art teacher smiled, though, it felt too inviting.
Karryn flashed that smile and said, "Can I see the space today or should I come back?"
The circulation librarian said, "I'm sorry, but we're a little short handed. I'm the only one working curbside right now."
"Oh, I hate to impose on you essential workers," Karryn said. She ran a hand along the table, her long unpolished nails skipping over it's uneven surface. "Are y'all always this busy?"
There had been six appointments all morning. As they set up the table, the sky had been red under the dark clouds. The reference librarian had said, "Red sky in morning, a sailor takes warning." Then he had gone off to take in the delivery and installation of the new book drop and left her alone. Noises from that side of the building had been happening all morning as the workers tried to beat the rain.
"We have our spurts. Always when we turn our backs, that's when people come," the circulation librarian said.
Karryn said, "Like a cat. Ignore it, and it will lay on you all day long."
"I suppose so. I should have another person here in a few hours," the circulation librarian said, thinking of when the page was coming in to work or when the children's librarian was done with her virtual story time.
"I knew the old circulation librarian, you know," Karryn said.
The circulation librarian said, "Oh?"
"Yes. We went way back. I hated to hear about what happened."
The circulation librarian had asked and heard the woman had died of natural causes. In her sleep. Just after retiring. She smiled, "I've heard rumors, but never met her."
"Brenda was," Karryn smiled that inviting smile, "deliciously attentive. She knew the best books to drive me wild."
"I hope I can help you get what you need," the circulation librarian said. She found herself drawn in by the woman.
"You might just lure me away from the second branch," Karryn said.
The circulation librarian leaned closer. Seeing Karryn's eyes for the first time, a subtle shade of gray with hints of violet. Lovely over that smile that said interesting things would happen if you just got a little closer.
"The book drop is ready," the reference librarian said from the doorway.
The spell was broken. The circulation librarian stepped back.
"Sorry to interrupt," the reference librarian said.
"Chris, this is Karryn from the art class. She's here to see the meeting room," the circulation librarian said.
Karryn said, "I thought I would come down and introduce myself. See the space I'll be working with."
"Sure. Julie, do you want to get a break from curbside?" the reference librarian asked the circulation librarian.
"No," the circulation librarian said. She did not want to be alone with this woman in the dark meeting room.
"Okay. If you want to come around the table, I'll show you the meeting room," the reference librarian said to the art teacher.
"Thank you very much. I can't wait to see what you have," Karryn said following the reference librarian into the building.
The circulation librarian wondered if it was a good idea to leave the reference librarian alone in the dark with the art teacher.
The reference librarian made coffee. He sat alone in the conference room and smelled the coffee. He wondered if it was strong enough. He wondered if he should have poisoned it.
The circulation librarian came into the conference room. She sat beside him in one of the large comfy chairs. The board of directors, when they were still meeting here, had requested the best. She said, "So what's he like?"
"Who?" the reference librarian said.
"The second branch librarian."
The reference librarian looked around. Seeing no one, he said, "Creepy bastard. I mean, we all got our things, but he's been out there too long. Gotten into some things in the county that should not-"
"Hello," said the children's librarian as she breezed into the room and sat across from them. "We talking about Mr. Creepy from the land out yonder?"
"Lower your voice," the reference librarian said.
The children's librarian stuck out her tongue. "He's strange, but he's still a librarian."
"That alone should scare you," the reference librarian said.
"Is the director coming?" the circulation librarian said.
The technical services librarian said from the door, "He is in his office on a call. He said we should handle it." She limped around the table and took a seat next to the children's librarian.
"Would you like some coffee, Miriam?"the reference librarian said.
"Did you poison it?" said the tech serv librarian with a small smile.
The circulation librarian said, "I can't tell if y'all are joking anymore."
"Ask your predecessor," said the tech serv librarian.
Before the circulation librarian could ask what that meant, a small tapping came from the door. They turned and found the second branch librarian standing in the doorway. Small, wrapped in dark cloth and the smell of sage, the second branch librarian smiled.
"It has been too long since we have met," he said, his voice high and full of teeth.
"Coffee, Jacob?" said the reference librarian.
The second branch librarian took the seat at the far end of the table. He folded in on himself becoming a lump of coal and eyes looking out at them. When he spoke, his teeth shinded. "No, thank you, Christopher."
"Well, I am, dammit." The reference librarian rose and poured a cup.
The second branch librarian spoke: "I have little time. I am aware some of my patrons from the county vandalized the city book drop. This is unacceptable, and I wish to make amends and offer my apologies. I propose an outreach project of sorts to mend fences."
"What kind of project?" the circulation librarian asked.
"An art class from the local co-op needs a space. Free instruction to the public. After hours, so it can be contained. They will pay more than enough to use the space to fix the book drop."
"We can't let people in to use the library," the children's librarian said.
"We can if we invite them to use the space. If we use responsible practices, six feet, masks, etc. If you want the money for your book drop, this is the only way."
"We could take money from the second branch budget," the reference librarian said.
The second branch librarian flashed his teeth. "I have already spoken to the director and the art class. They find this acceptable. Once a month, the weekend after the full moon."
"That's this weekend," said the children's librarian.
The circulation librarian leaned forward. "Did the Nguyen family go to this art class?"
"The sweet Nguyen family has enjoyed many of the second branch's programs," the second branch librarian said.
"What do you think, Mirim?" the reference librarian said.
The tech services librarian said, "None of my business. I don't do programming."
The reference librarian turned to the children's librarian. "Jamie?"
"We need a book drop. I say we do it," the children's librarian said.
The second branch librarian rose. "The art class and their teacher will be in contact."
"We didn't decide," the reference librarian said.
The second branch librarian rose and walked to the door. "It was decided before I even came. As I said, I talked to the director. Good day to you all. We should meet again soon." He left with a small tapping.
The reference librarian told the children's librarian, "Okay, here's what we do: You go first, get the door open wide. I'll push this bin out fast as I can behind you, so get out the way. I'm gonna hit the curb hard and might bounce a bit. Don't let that worry you."
"You don't want to use the ramp?" The children's librarian said.
The reference librarian shook his head. "If I make the turn, go down a few feet, then have to turn again? Seconds lost. People could be out there waiting to get in. Asking when we open, when they can donate old shit nobody cares about. No masks. The bastards."
"Should I come behind you with a cart? Catch anything that falls?"
"And have two of us out there at the same time? Are you mad?"
"I didn't used to think so."
"Jamie, we must do this fast. Changing the book drop bin is nothing to laugh at."
"I'm not laughing. Every day seems the same. Same patrons, same curbside, same you and same me. Nothing ever changes. Even online programs. I don't know whether the wheels on the bus are going round and round or coming or going," the children's librarian said. A single tear rolled down her cheek.
The reference librarian wanted to comfort her, but in the times of plague there is no touch. Words mean little. Action, though. He knew action. "Hey," he said. "Let's get these bins swapped out. How about it?"
The children's librarian's eyes crinkled and her head nodded. A smile somewhere under that Miss Frizzle mask came through. Focus and duty, the reference librarian thought, can bring us through.
They got into places. The children's librarian stood by the door, her hand on the bar ready to push. The reference librarian stood with hands on a yellow bin. He gave it an experimental shove and enjoyed the way the wheels glided. Well oiled wheels.
"Go," he said.
The children's librarian shoved open the door with a heavy metal clang and ran around it. Halfway, though, with a hand on the door, she stopped. A green light shone around her. In the door frame against the overcast sky, she became a shadow in the sick flickering glow of whatever she was gazing at outside in the parking lot.
The reference librarian stopped himself from pushing the bin into her. "What's wrong?" he said.
"Oh, Chris," she said.
He got the bin out of the way and stood beside her in the doorway. The book drop was ablaze in dark green fire. Black in the center where the bright white should be and flickering forest colored light to a smokeless sky.
Beyond the book drop, out in the parking lot, came the mirthless laughter of children. "The Nguyen family," the children's librarian said.
"Who?" the reference librarian said.
"They went to the second branch and came back."
"I'll make a call," the reference librarian said.
The circulation librarian stepped into the children's department. She was new and did not take shit, but she still felt at odds just walking into another librarian's area. She said, "Knock knock."
The children's librarian looked up, "Julie, how nice. What can I do for you?"
"So I'm on curbside, and there's some people who need help. But they only want to talk to you."
"Oh, how great. Did they give a name?" The children's librarian began going through piles of books beside her desk. She had been working hard making bags for her regular children she knew would appreciate them.
"The Nguyen family?" The circulation librarian said.
The children's librarian froze. "Are you sure?"
"That's what they said."
The children's librarian picked up the phone and dialed an extension. She said, "Chris, they came back…. The Nguyen family… The ones we sent to the second branch… Well, no, but Julie said they asked for me… I guess they can still talk... Can you come with me to see… Fine, then. Me and Julie. Enjoy your webinar." She set the phone in its cradle with more force than intended.
"We have a second branch?" the circulation librarian asked.
"Yes," the children's librarian said as she stood.
They walked to the front door. The sun had hidden behind thick dark clouds. Through the glass, shadows could be seen looming over the curbside tables. Three little shadows and a dark brooding lump of an adult.
"Where there had been light now lived darkness," the children's librarian said.
"What?" the circulation librarian said.
"Nothing. Something my mom always said." The children's librarian squared her shoulders and lit up her face with a kind smile. She crafted her thoughts of joy and helpful wonder. She hoped as she opened the door. "The Nguyen family!"
"Can you come play with us, Miss Jamie?" the children said as one.
The mother Nguyen said, "The librarians at the second branch played with them. You should play with them, too."
"Oh, I'm sorry, but we can only do curbside here. I can probably find some books for you, though if you remind me of your library card numbers…"
Three sets of little hands lay flat on the table. "Play with us, Miss Jamie."
The circulation librarian stepped forward. She had picked up a spray bottle at some point. A fine mist came from the end of the spout and onto the table. Onto the little hands. The children hissed and hid behind their mother.
"My babies," Mother Nguyen said.
"I'm sorry. We have to clean the tables. Is there anything library related we can help you with?" the circulation librarian said.
"We will go to the second branch," Mother Nguyen said and led her children away.
The children's librarian said, "What's in that bottle, Julie?"
"My mama said some things to me, too," said the circulation librarian as she wiped at the table.
"And another thing, if you think you can tell me what I can and cannot check out, then you can go right to hell in a hand basket that says 'I'm the worst person who ever did things' on a ribbon tied around it," the patron in the yellow hat told the circulation librarian.
The circulation librarian stared ahead. She was new at her job. The reference librarian and the children's librarian watched her from a window. She continued to stare ahead, swaying side to side, her eyes looking past the curbside table.
The patron in the yellow hat said, "Did you hear me?"
The swaying stopped. The circulation librarian said, "Oh my, I'm sorry. I seem to have drifted away just now."
The patron in the yellow hat took her turn to stare. She said, "What?"
The librarian waved a hand. "Oh, the way you talked. Just lulled me off. I was thinking about this little dog my mother had who would yip and snap and snarl at nothing at all. Poor little thing. Got run over by a bus."
"I need to check out the encyclopedia," the patron in the yellow hat said.
"Oh, we threw that old thing away," the circulation librarian said.
"Why would you do that?"
"Because they don't publish it anymore. But you can go online."
"My taxes fund this library, and I need the encyclopedia."
"Would you like a refund?" the circulation librarian said.
The patron in the yellow hat paused. "Yes?"
"One moment."
The circulation librarian turned and walked inside the library. The reference librarian and the children's librarian stood near the window, stunned. She asked them, "Sorry, still new in town. Which way is the tax assessor's office?"
"Next to City Hall on Main Street," the reference librarian said.
"And the highway from there?"
"Down Main, turn on Second and keep going until the intersection."
"Thank you, Chris," the circulation librarian said and turned back to the patron outside.
"Welcome, Julie," said the reference librarian.
"Well, are you gonna get me my refund?" the patron said.
"First, you can go to the tax assessor's office and file your grievance with them. They are next to City Hall on Main Street," the circulation librarian said.
"I know where they are. I pay my boat-"
The circulation librarian talked over her, "And when they have laughed you out on your ass, keep going down Main Street, turn on Second Avenue, and follow it to the highway. Once on the highway, follow it straight to hell. I'm sure the devil is missing his dumbest flunky right about now."
The patron was stunned. The circulation librarian smiled, turned, and went inside. The reference and the children's librarian high-fived.
Now that the world is in the full grip of winter, you must choose a demonic or otherworldly overlord for which to serve. Do you want fire to warm your home or animal servants to bring you food? What are you willing to give up, blood for blood or do you have a spare virgin lying around? The staff of the library is here to help you make these easy decisions.
Karryn's pretty cool overall. She's immortal, loves to laugh, and makes the best bloody mary's. If you need someone to call up and hang with, there's no beating this dark overlord. Plus, she's a voracious reader. If you let her in, she will satisfy all your needs on those lonely nights.
Couple pints of blood once or twice a week
Good drinks and good times
Little woozy after hangs, and she mmay tell the same stories over and over
The only reference book you will ever need. It's big and heavy, easily capable of bringing a grown man to his knees with one overhead blow, yet light enough that it can be carried around by any library staff. Just one look in these pages will show you secrets that will melt your brain.
A melted brain.
Unlimited knowledge and awesome potential for destruction
Reading too often can lead to cackling insanity and ooze in ears
Built in Detroit in 1956, this book cart has survived to today on wheels of evil and shelves of determination. Giving your soul over to this cart means never having to say "I can't carry that." Sheila will bring light unto your heart and death unto your enemies.
One Soul
Great carry capacity, space age design
May lose passion for all things
Once a small butterfly, Marquis slaughtered fields of enemies and stomped six bloody boot prints onto the souls of the dead. With his coal and fire inlaid wings he carries the souls of the undying to their places of torment. Hear his forlorn wail and tremble.
One gumdrop
Never fear when you know true death
May destroy you
"Look, it's one guy or the other. They both scream a lot," the circulation librarian said sipping her tea.
"One's a black guy and one's Asian, Brenda," said the reference librarian.
"They're both Fast and the Furious B-Team," the circulation librarian said leaning back in her chair. They had been debating movies for their entire lunch period. Neither really cared about any of the movies they were talking about. "Nobody cares about them in the end. It's all about that bald guy and that really big bald guy."
"Yeah, but the really big bald guy is now off fighting with the little British bald guy."
"That don't make it better, Chris."
The page came in the break room. He set the electric kettle on and sat across the room from the librarians. The reference librarian said hello while the circulation librarian ignored the boy, saying, "That don't make it better at all."
"Why? Because the movie doesn't have the one you like?" the reference librarian said.
The circulation librarian sighed. "Because it's about the family. The whole group. It's like if one of the Lethal Weapon's go off and gung fu fight."
"There's so much wrong with that statement," the reference librarian said.
The kettle began a low whistle. The page stood up and pulled out a tea bag from his pocket. He began looking for a cup in the cupboard above the sink. He pulled down a yellow cup.
The circulation librarian stood. She walked over to the sink and took the cup from his hand.
"That's the director's," she said. "I don't think he'd be happy you taking his cup."
"Sorry, Brenda," the page said.
"You can use mine, Freddy. Blue one that says you can't beat a good book," the reference librarian said.
"Thanks," the page said and found the cup. He poured the water and dunked the bag. A warm citrus flavor filled the air.
The circulation librarian said, "What kind of tea is that, anyway?"
The page shrugged, saying, "My mom gave it to me."
The circulation librarian said, "You're mommy sent you to work with tea, huh? Smells good. Let me taste it."
"Brenda, leave the kid alone," the reference librarian said.
The circulation librarian said, "Freddy don't mind me having a little. He knows I like tea."
Freddy put the cup on the counter. "I know."
She laughed and picked up the cup. Raised it to her lip and took a sip. "Pretty tasty. I should make you make me a cup."
The page said, "That's what you do, Brenda. You push too much."
"Wha-" the circulation librarian said, then she coughed. Blood spurted from her mouth. More coughing. More blood. She fell, her body shaking.
The reference librarian jumped to his feet. He crossed to her, held her shoulders shouting her name. Then he looked at the page. "What did you do?"
The page said, "Pushed back."