Off Topic://Goody, I've missed people. And I have time now,
as I've still got a few months before I have to seriously
get down to the business of embalming and stuff.

Oh, and another thing...

HELLO ALL YOU PEOPLES IN BALTIMORE!!!!!!!

I will gracing your fair city on the evenings of July 15th
and 16th along with the ever so luscious DJ Kantrip
(Calhoun on here) who will be DJing somewheres in the city.
So, all y'all that live in Baltimore that I've been wanting
to meet (*coughPOEcough*) and everyone should come out to
the night and lets get wasted in the name of literature!!

//:On Topic


Rhio stretched and yawned, dislodging some of the books
that were piled on top of her. As she sat up, the books
began to shift and whisper, some of them flying back to
thier accustomed spots on the shelves, the smaller lighter
volumes of poetry burrowing into her arms as if frightened.
The Library seemed to breathe a sigh of relief now that the
caretaker had awoken once more. No matter that the Library
was in The House, as far as the books were concerned they
belonged to themselves and Rhio belonged to them.

Rhio realized that the books had been sheltering her,
protecting her from something. Some of the ones that
remained in her arms and around her feet had cracked
bindings, gashed covers, and bent pages. The volumes of
philosophy seemed to have taken the worst of it. She
gathered the battered tomes in her arms and took them over
to the repair desk. One of them was a small almanac, which
obligingly showed her the date and relevant information
about what to plant at this time of year.

Rhio stopped dead. 'A year?' She thought...'I've been
passed out for a year? Holy shit, what happened here?' She
knew that the books would have kept her in the Limbo as
long as was necessary for the danger to pass, and obviously
they had taken heavy damage so something terribel had
happened. She laid the abused books on the desk and made
her way slowly to the beautifully carved hemlock doors that
were The House entrance into the Library. She slowly opened
the door, disloging dust and cobwens onto her hair. As she
slowly took in the view that presented itself to her, she
began to cry.

The House looked, smelled, sounded abandoned. There was no
music and clinking barware coming from the bar, there were
no tromping feet upstairs, there was no noise at all. She
looked at the windows, half expecting to see them covered
in Blackthorn roses, but they were open, with a slight
breeze coming in, and looked out on nothing more severe
than an extremely neglected rose garden.

She made her way back into the Library, to the desk, where
she turned on the in-House DJ system and programmed some
Dead Can Dance to listen to. That way, she thought, people
will know that SOMEONE is in here.

After that some of the Library cats come out of volumes and
arranged themselves in the windowsills and on the less
damaged volumes, purring like mad hatters, looking for all
the world like nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Rhio began to repair the cracked spine on a treatise of
Neitchse's religious beliefs, but after a few minutes she
put the glue down and looked at the ceiling.

"This is too much for me to do alone.." she muttered... "I
need to get some help in here. Not just for myself, but for
the whole house." She thought for a minute, and then
grabbed the hockey stick she kept near the desk for
protection from some of the more vehement books, a lantern,
and began making her way into the stacks. Her footsteps
echoed long after the boundaries of the Library had been
reached. After a while, they faded. The cats seemed
unconcerned as usual, but the books began to read to
eachother of thier worry. They had just gotten their
Librarian back, and now she had disappeared into L-Space!

Hours passed, then a night. At dawn of the second day, the
cats and books heard footsteps coming in from the stacks,
along with a noise that sounded like someone padding
barefoot. They heard Rhio's voice just as she came into
view in the main section of the room.

"As you can see, something really bad as happened here. I'm
not sure if this is a Sleeping Beauty thing, but there are
no roses, and it seems like only the human occupants of The
House were attacked, at least, that's what the books are
telling me. They can't describe what it was though."

Her companion, looking like a large pile of orange rugs,
was knuckling along on preposterously long arms and not
really responding to her discourse.

They reached the repair table, and Rhio gestured at the
distressed tomes that lay on it.

"This is why I came and found you. Some of these, I just
don't have the skill to repair. But I have read of you, and
I knew that you were the man..er... Librarian for the job."
The carpeting shrugged, and turned towards the door. He
knuckled over, peeked out, and came back to the center of
the room. The books began rustling, and Rhio clapped her
hands to get thier attention.

"I would like you to meet the Librarian!" she said "He's
been at this much longer than I have and he will be helping
me get things back in order."

The books began to rustle louder when the Librarian raised
a face like an old boot to the stacks.

"OOK!" he said, then turned to Rhio. "Oook ook oook eek ook
ook." He explained, pointing at the door, and then at the
table.

"Oh sure, no problem." Rhio said. She then walked over to
the doors and pulled them open wide, letting the rooms air
out a little. On her way back to the table, she grabbed
some bananas from the fridge, marveling that they were
still fresh as they day she put them in there for Julian.
When she reached the table, the Librarian was deep in the
middle of an appendectomy. She put the bananas on the
table, and sitting next to him began repairing the torn
cover of a C.S. Lewis novel, listening to the music coming
over the com system and the quiet ooking from her companion
as he soothed the frightened volumes.

--- Thom Truelove <majormagik@...> wrote:

> I plan to return to posting here. I used to post at least
> something every day.
>
>
>
>


The Problem with defending the purity of the English language is that the
English language is as pure as a crib-house whore. It not only borrows
words from other languages; it has on occasion chased other languages down
dark alley-ways, clubbed them unconscious and rifled their pockets for new
vocabulary. - James Nicoll

Check out my neato keen new website!!!! http://www.morriganstears.com

New episode of Mope Opera coming soon...I swear!!!!

__________________________________________________
Do You Yahoo!?
Tired of spam? Yahoo! Mail has the best spam protection around
http://mail.yahoo.com