Bookshelf Battle

The woman sitting behind the reference desk of the Parker Public Library was slightly plump, though nothing a few weeks at the gym wouldn’t have cured. She wore a purple button-down sweater over her ankle-length dress and her brown hair was pulled back neatly in a bun. Her face was pretty, though her large, tortoise shell glasses distracted from it.

At the front of her desk was a meticulously arranged line of plush toys, each one a different character in the Willy Wombatverse. There was a flute playing Ferdinand Ferret, a saxophone toting Chester Chimp, a ukulele plucking Willy Wombat and not to be outdone, Willy’s girlfriend Wanda appeared to belting out a song into a microphone. Willy and Wanda looked alike, except Wanda had a pink bow stuck to the top of her head fur.

In the middle of this makeshift band stood an engraved name plate that read, “Abby Lane, Reference Librarian.”

Abby was in the process of checking in a stack of returned books when she sniffed something foul. She looked up to find herself staring at an unkempt vagrant wearing tattered clothes that hadn’t been washed for months, if ever. The aroma he gave off was a mixture of gin and urine.

“Sign me up for a computer,” the rummy barked.

“Hello to you too, Burt,” Abby said as she scribbled the man’s name down on a clipboard. “I’ll put you down for number three.”

“Good,” Burt said.

“You’re not going to use it to look at porn again, are you?” Abby asked.

Burt was aghast. “What is this? Soviet Russia? I don’t have to answer that!”

The wino stormed off in the direction of the computer lab just as the phone rang.

Abby picked it up. “Parker Public Library?”

“Yes,” squawked the old man on the other side of the line. “Where do you people get off using my hard earned tax dollars to warehouse books so smarmy ass no-good hippies can build up their egg heads while our boys overseas don’t have enough napalm to drop on the gooks?”

Abby closed her eyes and sighed. “Hello Mr. Daniels. How are you?”

“Terrible!” Mr. Daniels replied. “What day is it?”

“It’s Friday, Mr. Daniels,” Abby said. “Have you been taking your medication?”

“And allow some incompetent doctor to tinker with my brain?” Mr. Daniels snapped. “No thank you.”

“I think you should hang up and call your son, Mr. Daniels,” Abby said.

“I have a son?” the old man asked.

“Yes,” Abby said. “Remember? That nice man who came and picked you up when you got lost and wandered into the library and started yelling at me for wasting your tax dollars with my existence?”

“Oh right,” Mr. Daniels said. “Because you are. Which government idiot had the bright idea to hire you when the money spent on your salary could be used to buy a rocket to launch up Ho Chi Minh’s ass?”

“Vietnam’s been over a long time, Mr. Daniels,” Abby said.

“Really?” Mr. Daniels asked. “Then I want to know why…”

Abby made a bunch of staticky sounds. “Gerrshhh kursssshhhh…. oh no, Mr. Daniels, you’re breaking up.”

“I’m not finished yet,” Mr. Daniels said. “I’ve got a lot of complaints about that useless library and you’re going to listen to every last one of them.”

“Brrzzt oh my God, Mr. Daniels,” Abby said. “We’re getting disconnected! Brrrzzt brrzzzt call me back never! OK bye!”

Wap! Just as Abby hanged up the phone, a tatted up college student with a diamond stud in her nose dropped an assignment from one of her classes down on Abby’s desk.

“Hey lady,” the student said. “Write this paper for me, ok?”

“Umm,” Abby said. “Not ok.”

“Excuse you?” the student said.

“I’d be happy to help you look for the information you need to write this paper,” Abby said. “But you have to write it yourself.”

“Ugh,” the student said as she snatched her assignment paper back and walked off in a huff. “Why the crap is this stupid place even here anyway? You can just order whatever book you want off the Internet and a drone will fly it to your house.”

“Not everyone can afford to buy every book they want!” Abby shouted. “And depending on drones to bring books to your house is how Skynet begins!”

Behind Abby’s desk, there was a door. Etched on the glass were the words, “Edna Cravenbush, Library Director.”

Abby knocked on it. The sound of a snoring old lady was the only response, so Abby knocked again.

“Huh?” the old lady asked.

“Edna?” Abby asked.

“Oh,” Edna said. “Come in, Abby.”

Abby turned the knob and the door squeaked as she pushed the door open.

Edna Cravenbush looked a lot like a mummy. She was in her seventies and her gray hair was pulled back in a bun, a pair of tortoise shell glasses covered most of her face, and like Abby, she also wore a button-down sweater over her ankle length dress, only hers was green.

“How goes the battle out there, dear?” Edna croaked in her froggy voice as she struck a match and sparked up a cigarette.

“Not bad,” Abby said as she took a seat in the visitor’s chair on the opposite side of Edna’s desk. “I only had to warn one person they were courting Skynet by becoming dependent on book delivering drone technology.”

“I literally have no idea what you just said, dear,” Edna said as she puffed away. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to remind you I’m only working until two, today,” Abby said.

“Oh?” Edna asked.

“Yes,” Abby replied. “I have to pick the kids up from school and get them packed for our trip.”

Edna grinned, revealing her yellow, tobacco stained teeth. “You’re going on a trip? How lovely! Where to?”

“Wombat World,” Abby said. “Remember? We talked about this awhile ago.”

Edna chuckled. “Honestly dear I’m at a point where if it didn’t happen five minutes ago I could give a shit.”

The old gal sucked in a big drag, then expelled a smokey cloud. “But you have a wonderful time. This uh, what is it?”

“Wombat World,” Abby said.

“Wombat World,” Edna said. “It sounds lovely.”

Abby stood up. “Thanks Edna”

“OK then dear,” Edna said as she plopped her white tennis shoe clad feet up on her desk and leaned back. “Have a wonderful time.”

“I will,” Abby said. She put her hand on the door and was about to push it open, then stopped.

“Edna?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Are you going to be ok?” Abby asked.

“Of course,” Edna said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just…”

Abby sat back down. “I know it’s not my place to tell you that you shouldn’t smoke in a public building but, I just worry about being away, because sometimes I catch you sleeping with your cigarette in your mouth still lit.”

“You do?” Edna asked.

“Yes,” Abby said. “I usually just take it out of your mouth and put it out without telling you.”

“Oh,” Edna said. “So you’re the one.”

“Yes,” Abby said.

“Stop doing that, dear,” Edna said.

Abby sat there silently, unsure of what to say next.

“My dear,” Edna said as she flicked some ash into a coffee mug, “My time has come and gone. I’m ready for it all to be over.”

“Over?” Abby asked.

“Precisely,” Edna said. “You see, when I first started out as a librarian so many years ago, sitting at the very desk that you sit at now, I felt like I’d chosen a profession that would give me an opportunity to help people, to really make a difference. Alas, all I ever got were people complaining that the library was a waste of their tax dollars and students demanding that I write their papers for them.”

Abby cleared her throat. “That’s um…more or less what I experience all day…plus vagrants who want to use the Internet for porn and people who mock me about how they can get whatever information they want on the Internet.

“Oh,” Edna said. “Don’t even get me started on that. Would that I could kick Al Gore in the crotch for dreaming up that nightmare. It’s all tits and ass and writers who act like geniuses even though their blogs are read by three point five readers, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” Abby said. “But aren’t you at least happier as the library director?”

“Oh not at all, dear,” Edna said. “It gets worse at this desk. Once a week I must go to battle with some government bureaucrat who wants to put the library out of business. In tough economic times, libraries are the first to go, you know.”

“I know,” Abby said.

“This week, the Mayor wants to shut the library and use the space for a methadone clinic,” Edna said. “Last week, the Department of Public Works wanted to gut the building and use it as a garage to park their dump trucks. There’s always some scheme afoot to shut down the library and use the building for something else.”

“But you always talk them out of it,” Abby said.

“For now,” Edna said. “Though the older I get and the less the public cares the harder it is for me to do so.”

“I’m sorry, Edna,” Abby said. “But even with all of your burdens I’m not sure an early exit is the way to go.”

“There’s nothing early about it,” Edna said. “I’m done and now I’m just waiting for God to take me. And I’m sorry to say my burdens will soon be yours.”

“They will?” Abby asked.

“Of course,” Edna said. “I’ve already recommended that you take over my position when I shuffle off this mortal coil. You’ll be back here talking the town fathers out of bulldozing the library so that the land can be sold to a strip mall developer and some younger lady will be at the reference desk, being scolded about how libraries are useless thanks to the Internet. It’s the circle of life.”

Abby looked the old gal over, then took stock of herself. The hair buns. The button down sweaters. The ankle length skirts. And yes, they were both even wearing white tennis shoes.

There were way too similarities.

“Surely, you’ve found some happiness in your life?” Abby asked.

“Oh for a time,” Edna said. “I had my husband and children…until my carousing husband left and my children grew up and found lives of their own. Once or twice a year they call out of guilt but they rush the conversation and get off the phone as soon as possible.”

Abby felt all the color rush out of her face. “OK then, Edna. I’ll see you in a week.”

Edna, not seeming to care, took a sip out of her ash laden coffee cup. “Very good dear, see you then.”