WandaVision Proves Hurt People Hurt People

Marvel got back into television with a relatively small story with big implications. WandaVision could have been a lot of things (people speculated the whole damn way), but in the end it became a solid superhero story about grief and loss in every good and bad way the genre can offer. 

Wanda dealing with the trauma we have seen throughout her six years is an interesting story, especially for a being who can warp people's minds and the physical matter around her. Where it stumbles is ending with a physical battle and a clever trick that leads to solving deep emotional problems. Wanda has learned and grown, but in the end it does not feel satisfying for her to just walk away from everything she did as an unstoppable magical badass after almost destroying a small town and enslaving its occupants. 

In the end, I love Wanda more as a character, but I am not sure she can be trusted with her powers. I guess we will see more about her development in the new Doctor Strange whenever it comes out.

To the Notes! Beware spoilers for the whole damn season and the MCU as a whole.

Intro to Magic

There's been magic in the MCU since Doctor Strange (maybe even Thor) popped in waving his hands around. But what we have here is real magic. "Change the world not fucking around damn sure not science we do not understand" magic. What happened in the nine episodes was more than floating shit around and telepathic mind tricks. It also was not Strange's "we know kung fu" brand of magic. Agatha gave a motherfucker superpowers, and Wanda rewrote reality (giving another motherfucker superpowers). That's pretty damn wild, even if the rules seemed a bit arbitrary and convenient to the plot. Turns out just writing stuff on walls can take away another witches' powers. Cool for her to say that.

Agatha Harkness

OMG I love Kathryn Hahn in this role. To be honest, the only other roles I remember her from are her solid run in Parks and Rec and the best part of those Bad Moms movies. Is this the comic book character we all know and love? Fuck if I know. Fuck if I care. Hahn dominated this series as a mysterious character and as a magic sucking witch from witch there is no escape. Fuck yeah she killed that dog and she'll kill your ass, too.

Grief and Darkness

The best turns in this show played on Wanda's grief and the darkness that wormed its way into the world around her. Subtle, eerie shades of David Lynch crept in like worms in spaghetti. A normal sitcom world laugh track became a chorus of demented screams inside the heads of viewers as scenes turned in on themselves through Wanda processing her life. Only when Agatha pushes the past on her do we fully see the discomfort Wanda has been feeling, but even then things seem only being processed on the surface. The darkness is still there even when Wanda has processed Vision's death. She gives up him and the kids, but I'm not sure she gave up the dark parts of herself.

Love and Forgiveness

Speaking of Vision, that son of a bitch damn near made me cry. First talking to Wanda in her Avengers room when they fell in love, and then that damn end scene where he says he'll always be a part of her. Bettany and Olsen fit so well together I found it very easy to realize he's a robot and she has enslaved a town and does not seem to feel bad about it.

Messy Neat Ending

Man, I know this is a comic book superhero thing, but maybe there did not have to be a big light in the sky and a punchy fight at the end? Ultimately both Wanda and Vision do have some smarty-pants talking the villain to death-ish moments, but it almost felt like the "de-icing" scene in the first Iron Man. The solutions are clever and in character, but I don't feel satisfied. Sure, Wanda gets a fancy new outfit (that looks amazing), but, and I do not think I have said this enough, she enslaved and tortured a town full of people. They beg her to stop. Dottie begs Wanda to let her hug her child again. Wanda's Hulk "Take it all" moment at the end does not fix this. And is flying not a spell? Because Agatha should have dropped like a stone when those runes went up.

Monica

Monica Rambeau is one of the most exciting characters the MCU has dropped. Sure we met her as a kid in Captain Marvel, but here dealing with the death of her mom she's so much more. Then she gets some poorly defined superpowers and hell yeah I want to see what they do with her. However. Here she is just a champion and overall scapegoat for Wanda's actions. One of her last lines is saying she would have brought her mom back, too. Which, yes, of course that's human nature to mourn for the dead. But she should have followed up with "but I probably would not have enslaved so many people to my will while I was at it."

Evan Peters

Fuckers gonna troll. Disney, you bastards.

Darcy and Woo

They really are just so great. Those damn magic tricks. Flourish!

Darkhold

Same shit from Agents of SHIELD?

Let me know in the comments, on the Contact Page, or at contact@bannedlibrary.com what you thought about the episode or if you have any thoughts on the damn Darkhold.

Marvel WandaVision Scarlet Witch & Vision Retro 50s T-Shirt

Marvel

How to Reach Inbox Zero

For some, Inbox Zero lies just behind searching for the Ark of the Covenant and finding the Loch Ness monster. Inbox Zero is the concept that you have zero, zip, zilch, no emails in your inbox. Well, as your helpful librarian I have a system to teach you how to reach and maintain Inbox Zero if that is your goal.

Create Folders

The first thing I want you to do is make three folders. They should be named "Do Me Now, Do Me Later, and For Your Information." You can name your folders whatever sexual metaphor that's work appropriate for you, but make sure they approximately mean "Important today," "Important this week," and "Important to know."

Organize Good Shit

The next two steps will be the biggest undertaking of your life. Go through your email inbox. Think of your plain "Inbox" like a mailbox outside your house. If there's more than one page of Inbox, then that shit is full. So move every email you must answer today into "Do Me Now." Move every email you plan to answer this week into "Do Me Later." Anything with useful information should be moved into "For Your Information." Be careful with the brain belief of "useful information." Make this stuff that's need to know within your life, not the life you wish you had.

Delete Bad Shit

If something does not fit into one of the three folders, delete that shit. All the ads, follow-up emails, reminders of overdue library books, and letters from princes from other countries get deleted. Honestly, you can cut your Inbox in half by searching "Netflix" and "Dominos" and deleting all those. The only caveat I hold is receipts. Instead of deleting those emails, I archive them just in case I need to yell at someone.

Find a Routine

Now you should have the fabled Inbox Zero. To maintain this, get some routines, rituals, daily dealings going. At some point during the day, look at your inbox and organize that shit.

Here's my routine: I start with my Inbox. I open each email, scan through them, and move them into the appropriate folder or delete them. If there's a particularly unwelcome email, I click it to spam or I unsubscribe from the company with maximum ferocity. Then I go to my "For Your Information" folder. I scan through all of them, from the bottom to the top. This makes me aware of what I might need to know and clear out stuff that I have either memorized or do not need anymore. Sharon's birthday party only mattered when it was going to happen, not after, so add it to your calendar for next year and delete the email. Then move to the "Do Me Later" folder. Again, scan each one bottom to top and see if there's anything in there that must be done today and move it to the "Do Me Now" folder. When that's all done, start working on the emails in the "Do Me Now" folder. Get that shit done like a to do list, one at a time and with extreme prejudice.

Does this sound like a lot of work? Maybe, but just for the first week or so. Think of it like a garden that's gone to shit. Sure, it will take a while to cut things back and figure out how fast the grass grows, but sooner or later you just have to mow on schedule and things work out fine.

Do you have a plan for Inbox Zero? Have you tried out something like this? What's your favorite color for late night summoning?

Let me know in the comments or at contact@bannedlibrary.com for all your library questions.

How to Check Your Email

Everyone needs to check their email if you live in the 21st century. You might need to pay an electric bill or send a crazy conspiracy message to your grandchildren. Despite this need of the modern person, many are unsure how to perform this task. Read the following instructions to check your email like a professional email person in the emailroom of big businesses like Amazon and Wal-mart without asking a person born post-2000, regardless of their obligation to you as a family member (although it would be a whole lot cooler if you did*).

Find a computer

One of the hardest things to learn about email is that it exists as a digital nothingness. There's no physical envelope to cut open. There's no postage to save like a silly person. There's not even paper. To find a computer in the pandemic, maybe ask your family or friends or see if there's a computer browser on your smartphone.

Honestly, before we even begin, have three things: some way to access the internet, your email address, and your password. 

Open a computer browser

The big three computer browsers (so named because they are used to "browse" the internet like a drunken dad at a Chuck E Cheese buffet) are Chrome, Mozilla, and whatever Microsoft is pushing these days**. The most used browser is Chrome, so use that. It looks like a circle with green, red, and yellow around a blue dot. Mostly if the thing that opens up is advertising something, you probably got close.

Type the domain

At the top of the browser, type the name of your email (also called a "domain")***. You will recognize the domain because it is at the end of your email behind the @ symbol. For example, "contact@bannedlibrary.com" is the library's email address, and "bannedlibrary.com" is the domain. Your email address domain will probably be one of the following: gmail.com, hotmail.com, outlook.com, or mail.com. 

Find "Login"

Once the computer browser does its thing, you should be taken to the website of the domain. If you are taken to an all-white screen with a list of shit on it, that's Google. Click something that looks like what you tried to type. On this screen, look for the word "Login." Click on that word. Only that word.

Type your email address

You may be taken to a new screen asking for your email address. Click on the line where it wants you to type your email address. Type your email address. Make the @ symbol by holding down the"shift" key and typing "2."**** Make sure there are no spaces. If there is no line for a password, click whatever button you see that says something like "continue*****."

Type your password

Click the empty space provided for the password, and type your password. If you do not remember your password, we will be providing you with instructions soon to reset your password. Maybe you wrote it down? Look around at the stuff in your pockets. Either way, nobody but you and the company whom you email with knows or cares about your password. The librarian did not do shit with it. 

Anyway, after typing your password, click whatever button you see that says something like "continue*****."

Enjoy your email!

If you now see a list of even more advertisements, congratulations! That's your email. Now read through each one and if it feels like it's selling something it is! Even the emails you need will read that way, except maybe important ones. Those will be sent to your "Spam" folder, so check that, too.

* If you get stumped at any point, just go find a young person and try not to get angry or cry while asking them for help. 

** Microsoft had the first big browser with Internet Explorer and now uses Edge, but they both suck so hard they could pull a golf ball through a garden hose.

***For everyone saying, "well that's not really called a domain," shut the fuck up and teach your own grandma the Internet.

****Let go of both buttons before you keep typing.

***** ANY word that maybe resembles continue. Go, Yes, Forward, Make It So, Click Here You Dumb Bastard******.

****** Fun fact, the original line from Casablanca was "Play it again, you dumb bastard." No fooling.

What Happens When You Don't Return Library Books

Everyone, even librarians, have library fines. Even if you have never used a library card a fine has been added to your soul in terms of your humanity. The items in the library, the value of them, are counted as a piece of civilization. What can that be worth if those items are not returned? Here are the steps if a library book is never returned.

Charged a Fine

Right out the gate, you are charged a fine. A flat fee of ten cents a day. There is a cap of five dollars per item so do not worry about breaking the bank.

Charged for Cost

After three months, however, an item must be replaced. A fair market value of a replacement will be assessed and charged to the patron. A small fee of five dollars is added to cover the cost of processing the lost item record and the new item. This fee is struck if the item is returned intact and the fine reverts to the five dollar amount. Replacements cannot be substituted.

Charged for Time

Should an item never be returned and the cost of the item never paid, the library gods will assess the amount of time lost by the item from the community. This time will be deducted from the offending patron's life.

Charged to Cross

Some men pass before their time. The library gods await at the River Libros to collect from those unable to give the community's time back to them. They will render from those souls a payment of half before allowing the patron to cross into the Fields of the Never Return. Those partial souls will understand no great joy or knowledge of the universe as they wander those fields without ceasing until the gods turn the planes of existence cold.

Charged to Enter

Once the beauty of existence ends, the Fence of Phobos will be revealed around the Fields of Never Return. That fence will have a gate creak open to welcome those wandering souls. Those partial souls will be harvested, their heat gathered to power a new universe of infinite light and sound so that the full souls will be able to live once again. 

Made His Toes Curl

"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.

Don't Lock the Meeting Room

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.

Forgot How to be Tender

"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.

Red Sky in Morning

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.

To Mend Fences

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.

A Green Light Means Drop

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.

Often They Come Back

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.

The Circulation Librarian Strikes Back

"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.

Staff Picks: Dark Winter Overlord Edition

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 the Vampire Queen - Brenda from Circulation

Overview

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.

Cost

Couple pints of blood once or twice a week

Pros

Good drinks and good times

Cons

Little woozy after hangs, and she mmay tell the same stories over and over

The Tome of Ancient Sorrows - Chris from Reference 

Overview

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.

Cost

A melted brain.

Pros

Unlimited knowledge and awesome potential for destruction

Cons

Reading too often can lead to cackling insanity and ooze in ears

Sheila the Book Cart - Freddy the Page

Overview

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.

Cost

One Soul

Pros

Great carry capacity, space age design

Cons

May lose passion for all things

Marquis the Butterfly King - Jamie from Children's

Overview

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.

Cost

One gumdrop

Pros

Never fear when you know true death

Cons

May destroy you

A Novel Tea

"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."

The Book Drop Job

The plan to change out the book drop could not have been more simple. Do it fast and early so no patrons could stop for a chat about when the library was going to re-open to full capacity.

     The reference librarian would come in early. Real early. The way he explained it to the page, "If I get here before the sun rises, way before, they can't stop me. I mean no light in the sky, the darkest before, the hammer that makes the crack of dawn. I get here before even the nuts looking for garage sales get on the road. Then I just take it."

     "What about the ones on the wifi?" the page asked.

     "Oh, those bastards don't deal with the book drop. Haven't you been paying attention? They just sit in their cars or under the walkway and download and play their games and don't care fuck all about the world around them."

     "So are you just gonna take it?"

     "No, son. I mean, yes, in a way. I'll do it right and proper. I'll park around back where the meeting room is and go in through there. They don't see my car, they don't see me."

     The page tilted his head. "I thought they wouldn't be here."

     "Always plan for assholes to be where you don't want them to be."

     "Then won't they be around back?"

     The reference librarian grinned. "Chances, son. All we have are the chances we take. So I go in the meeting room, make my way through the building in the dark. Need you to clear my way. No strange carts in the way."

     The page hung his head.

     The reference librarian put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "No worries about that. Not now. Jamie'll fix her up. Just get the rest out of my way. Can you do that?"

     The page nodded. 

     "Right. Then I get the second bin and roll it to the side door. Get that done quick as I can. Then I get out there. Prop the door open and run out into the dark with that extra bin. Get in, and get out. I figure maybe two minutes."

     The page said, "Yeah. That might work. The lock on the book drop might slow you up, but not much. What are you going to do if a patron does come up wanting something?"

     "Well, I guess I might help them. Right to hell," and the reference librarian laughed.

     The page laughed, too, but was not sure why. 

The Day the Book Cart Died

Without people in the library, the staff have gotten much freer expressing ourselves. They sing more. Play more music. Argue on the floor about dumb topics. 

     And some curse like sailors.

     "Ahhh, fucking ducks on the ocean," the circulation librarian screamed. A crash followed. Books raining from the second floor and onto the floor and the heavy metal of a cart tumbling down the stairs.

     The page on duty, a young boy not even 18, said, "You did that on purpose."

     A circulation library saw him standing in the stacks, looking at her. She looked down at the cart and the books. She turned back to him. saying, "No I didn't."

     "That was my favorite cart," he said.

     "Well, it's dead," she said.

     "You pushed it."

     "That's what you do with carts, Freddy. You push them."

     "Not like that." He walked around her and down the steps. "Not down steps."

     "Be careful, Freddy. You can be pushed, too," she said, too quiet for him to hear.

     The page pushed away the books with one hand while keeping the other on the cart. Carefully he lifted it and double checked the welds. Then the wheel fell off. One of the three shelves tilted. The page began to cry soft tears.

     The reference librarian materialized beside the circulation library and looked over the balcony. He said, "Why did you do that?"

     "Remember last week when I wanted a new cart?" the circulation librarian said.

     "I do."

     "Now I might get one."

     "You're kinda fucked up. Might want to go home."

     The circulation librarian smiled. "Have to put in an order first for my new cart."

     "Just one question first," the reference librarian said.

     "Shoot."

     "Why do that to the boy?"

     The circulation librarian smiled. "Remember last week when I wanted to hire a new page?"

     She walked one way and the reference librarian walked the other. Down on the floor, the page held the cart to his chest and rocked it back and forth. He sang a low tune, cursing the circulation librarian in his mind. He began a plot, an idea. Rage boiled and spilled over. 

     Then the children's librarian came to the page's side with another cart. She pulled the cart from his hands. She helped him gather the books. She gave him an ounce of humanity.

     The children's librarian said, "Not today, Freddy. Today we handle this. Then we plot to destroy her with her own fucking hands. We'll make her eat this cart. Until then, I'll get my welding equipment. I'll make her live again in some way."

     The page nodded. Then he smiled a smile touched with madness and wild fury.

The Shelving Robot Is Alive

We aren't sure when the shelving robot gained sentience.

     The circulation librarian thinks it started reading while the library was empty in lockdown. The audiobook traffic went up by twenty percent during the pandemic. All alone in the library, nothing to shelve, we figure the little robot started making its way through our meager collection using a library card it found on the ground. 

     Maybe it started listening just to hear a voice. The children's librarian would talk to it before lockdown. Call it "sweetie" and "honey" and thank it. It always seemed to hover around shelving easy books during story time. Maybe it missed her voice. Maybe it just got lonely.

     Of course, once you get a taste of knowledge you need more. I can't speak to what makes a being sentient, but I figure learning is a sure fire indication. That little robot finished all the audiobooks using the card of Philo Green. If Mr. Green had not died of heart failure back in March, we might never have found out.

     But we did find out. When we opened back up for curbside, we were contacted by Mr. Green's estate. Seems his email account had become very active with check out receipts. They wanted to know who was using the card. No way to tell, except the robot started acting out when we deactivated the card.

     You can tell when a shelving robot is acting out because it starts communicating. More than the usual "this book is still checked out," anyway. The first sign was multiple copies of The Da Vinci Code on the circulation librarian's desk. She would put them into the automatic sorter, they would trundle on down the belts into the fiction feeding tube, and then the robot would shelve everything but those books. Just bring them to her desk where they did not belong.

     I decided what the hell and made the little bastard a card. Used the name "Robert Langdon" after the star of the book. Then I called it into my office.

     You have not been a library director until you have seen the joy a small faceless gray robot can exude. The little bot spun around in circles when I read out the number to it. I had to smile.

     Then I got worried. The voice of Paul Mitchell, narrator of The Da Vinci Code, came from the speakers on the little device. It said, "Thank you." Before then it only spit out recorded messages. Things like "excuse me" and "low battery" and "please don't hit me."

     I told the shelving robot it was welcome. Then it left my office and kept on shelving. 

     Every so often, I check the "Robert Langdon" account. It is almost done with the digital collection. Thank goodness. We need the numbers.

Book Worm Fiction

Wanted: Illustrator for the following children's book script:

In an empty library way in the back in an old dictionary on a high shelf lived a small family of Bookworms.

Mama Bookworm cooked.

Daddy Bookworm helped people with medicine.

And Baby Bookworm was a baby who laughed.

The phone rang. Daddy answered the phone acting happy to talk. But then his mood grew sour.

"No. No, no, no. You cannot come here. Do not bring that to my house," Daddy said.

Mama peaked out from the kitchen. "Who's that?" she said.

Daddy waved her off, talking into the phone: "Prank call. Prank call." Then he hung up.

Baby gurgled on the floor, a pillow under her head. She stretched her legs to the ceiling and laughed some more.

A little while later, a crash could be heard outside. Someone was screaming for help. Daddy went outside and found his friend Vinnie Vulture dragging an unconscious Fanny Fox from his car.

"What the fuck is this?" Daddy said.

"You gotta help me, man," Vinnie said. "She snorted the whole bag. Help me, motherfucker, this is Marcel Walrus's wife."

"Okay, come in," Daddy said.

Mama saw them dragging Fanny into the house and lost her shit. "Oh, fuck no. Get that drugged up whore out of my house."

"Just go get my medical bag," Daddy said.

Mama said, "Fuck that. What if she dies here?"

Baby laughed.

"Go get my black medical bag, now," Daddy said.

Mama frowned but left the room. Baby moved the coffee table. Daddy and Vinnie got Fanny on the floor and opened up her shirt. Fanny was sweaty and not moving.

Mama came back with the black bag. Daddy took it from her and pulled out a long needle. He handed it to Vinnie.

Vinnie said, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

 "Stick it in her heart," Daddy said.

"Fuck that. You do it," Vinnie said.

Daddy said, "When I bring a dying girl to your house, I'll stick them with the needle. It's your turn."

"Shit. The heart?" Vinnie said.

"The heart!" Daddy, Mama, and Baby said together. Baby giggled.

Vinnie stabbed Fanny in the heart with the needle. Fanny jumped up screaming, running circles around the small room while Baby clapped and watched. Fanny sat on the floor staring at the needle in her chest.

Mama said, "That was trippy."

They all smoked some grass and chilled the fuck out. Fanny went home with Vinnie. Daddy, Mama, and Baby all slept in the same bed that night.

Tale of the Missing Hold

A guttural scream rang throughout the library. Frustration mixed with anger. The voice was high and loud and filled with expletives.

     I ran to the source of the sound at the front of the house near the circulation desk. We had several tables set up filled with holds. Brenda stood yelling at the books.

     "The fuck?" I said.

     Brenda turned to me, her mouth wide enough for her jaw to peak out below her lime green facemask. "Where are the Nguyen holds?"

     "In the 'n' section?" I said.

     "Don't be smart with me, ST. I will fuck you up."

     At that, I decided to back away. I lifted my hands palms out. "No problem. No problem here."

     "There is a problem. Mrs. Nguyen and the whole goddamn Nuyen family are out there right now. They made an appointment. They did everything right, and I can't find their holds." Brenda deflated, her shoulders dropping.

     I felt my butt touch the circulation desk. I began sidestepping to the right. Best get the desk between her and me.

     "We can figure this out," I said, rounding the desk.

     "Figure what out?" came a voice from below me.

     I may have let out a little pee and a scream.

     The children's librarian sat on the floor behind the desk. Jaime had her legs crossed and her hands on her knees. Her fingers were in little circles that matched the fingers on her facemask. 

     I said, "What are you doing down there?"

     "My afternoon meditation," she said uncrossing her legs.

     "Okay. Sure."

     Brenda picked up a box of sanitizing wipes and threw them into the stacks. "Doesn't anyone care about the Nguyens? Their holds are missing," she said in a voice that rattled the windows.

     Jamie bounced to her feet. "Oh, the Nguyens are here? I'll go see how they are."

     Brenda and I watched Jamie leave out the front door to the curbside table. The door closed to the sound of the children's librarian squealing. With a heavy thunk it closed.

     I brought up the Nguyen mom's record. They had three holds available for pickup. Couple of DVDs and a biography of Robin Williams. At the second branch.

     "Um, Brenda…" I said. I told her what happened. Her smile grew little by little, her heart lighter. I saw her shoulders unbunch as she skipped toward the door.

     A bit later she came back in floating. She said, "They were so nice about it and they said 'thank you.' So nice."

     "Too bad they have to go to the second branch," I said.

     Brenda nodded. "RIP the Nguyen family. They will be missed."