caper wolfhound garlic parasitic librarian cellulite
waltz taser libido grate sprint shoreline
Mrs. McGilaguddy looked up at the clock, then studied her watch. After a long, deep sigh, she pressed the button to play the recorded message.
“Good evening, patrons and friends. The Lilac City Library will be closing in 15 minutes. Please make your final selections and bring them to the check out desk at this time. Thank you. And good night.”
A couple of students checked their watches then packed up their belongings. The people meandering among the shelves marched dutifully to the counter. And the patrons seated nearby looked up at Mrs. McGilaguddy, smiled wanly at her, and prepared to leave.
Mrs. McGilaguddy reluctantly proffered her own friendly gesture. Her feet ached, and she was unusually sleepy for the relatively early hour. It must be that trouble last night, she mused. Kept me up far past my bedtime. These old bones just need more rest. From behind the desk, she surveyed the library. Her gaze settled on a group of teenagers not preparing to leave. She restrained from speculations about the caper they planned for that night.
The boys and girls were leaning on the railing of the second floor balcony. They had been in that very spot for more than an hour. Each observed the library staff and patrons and wrote sporadically in a little notebook. They watched the head librarian most of all. None of them had spoken, to each other or to anyone else, since entering the library.
Mrs. McGilaguddy looked away from the teens and across the nearly empty library. Already Nancy Ellen was waiting below the mural of the Lilac City shoreline to lock the solid oak double doors. And Ralph was covering the second floor and would usher out the mischievous miscreants.
The minutes ticked by, and eventually, the right minute arrived, lingered, and passed. Ralph turned off all the lights. Nancy Ellen re-shelved one last pair of books. And Mrs. McGilaguddy put out a large bowl of water and unlocked the back door.
Outside, the group of teens watched the shadows of the library staff moving by the big windows. They listened to the locking of the old metal back door, the opening and closing of car doors, the revving of engines. They waited 30 minutes in the quiet and the darkness until they were certain that no one moved within. Then they slunk to the window of the first-floor restroom they had propped open. One by one, and with only a little shoving of cellulite, they re-entered the silent library. The silence grated on their tense nerves and made them quiver. But they began the circuitous path through the halls and shelves and rooms as they had planned.
Then the heavy breathing began.
The kids stopped, looked wide-eyed at one another, barely resisted the urge to speak. But their resistance was futile. When the breathing was accompanied by the appearance of a looming shadow ahead in their path and the heat of a rancid breath, they too broke the silence.
“What is that?” one asked.
“It’s the… the… wolfhound?” another of them guessed.
A third whispered, “It’s coming.”
“What’s the deal?” the querulous one asked. “I practically bathed in garlic. That should keep it away.”
“It’s not a vampire.”
“We ought to, you know, get moving. It’s not looking for a waltzing partner.
As the shadow and stink approached, someone shrieked, “Use the Taser! What are you waiting for? Tase him, damn it!” But he didn’t wait for the Taser to fire. This one, this one boy prepared to sprint back toward the bathroom. Inexplicably, he was thinking about the effects this jolt of fright would have on his libido. Jenna would be raring to go at it too, he thought with undue and ill-timed salacity. Too bad that parasitic older brother of hers still lives at home. He is always home.