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esskay
Digital storyteller, Photographic narrator, Hogwarts alum. In real life, I write things. I speak fluent sarcasm. I'm unintentionally funny. My favorite thing is food. Guac is life. I'm a fountain of the most random information. I'm pretty, only because it's weird to call oneself beautiful. I'm weird in all the good ways. I live in the greatest city on Earth. I was Sasha before Beyonce was schizophrenic. My life is stranger than fiction. But please, don't take my word for it. My pen is mightier than my sword. Instagram
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Tuesday, August 11, 2009 || 7:34 AM
The library happens to be one of my favorite places. I love the quiet atmosphere, the long rows of tall shelves of hundreds of books. It's the place I go when I want to escape reality for a while and get lost in the world of perfect fiction. However, there is a woman who works at the branch near my house and she is evil. Not like the obvious, in your face, ((DIE, DIE, DIE!)) kind of evil. No, she's a different kind of evil altogether. The sweet-as-tooth-decaying-candy kind of evil. The smile-in-your-face-while-holding-the-metaphorical-knife-to-your-throat kind of evil. When I first walk into the library, she's as sweet as pie. All "how are you dear?"s and "how have you been sweetheart?"s. But God forbid, you should try to take out more than three books. She'll look at you like you're a black person before the civil rights movement and she's the Klansman (or woman in this case). "Are you sure you can read all of those in just 2 weeks?" she'll ask in her sweet, whispery "inside voice". And the whole time, you'll be thinking "lady, did I ask for your opinions or calculations of how fast I can read? Check my damn books out and stop asking stupid ass questions". But on the outside, you'll be just as sweet as she is pretending to be and say "yes, I'm sure" with the wholesome "I'm so innocent" smile on your face. And Heaven help you if you owe the library money. She'll use the voice often heard at the bedside of a sick person and look at you like she so regrets what she's about to tell you (even though we both know she's enjoying herself) and she'll say "I'm so sorry but you owe five dollars on your card. I'm afraid I won't be able to let you check out these books". Even though we both know that you can still check out books unless you owe more than twenty five dollars. But by now, you've stood in line for twenty minutes, only to have this hag ruin what would have been a comfy night in bed curled up with a good book. You're far too pissed off to think about how much you owe or how much you paid or anything but the fact that you wish this woman would take a long walk off of a short cliff. So to save yourself from telling her something you might regret later (lest you ruin the banter of two people who so clearly hate each other), you take a deep breath and calmly walk out of the library. All this trouble to read books and people still wonder why TV is so much more appealing.Labels: babble and rant, stranger than fiction |