The Mystery of Quincy Public Library

What, one wonders, in one's moments of extreme joblessness, happened to the Quincy Public Library. I use the word wonders and not thinks because I mean to. Thinking is too deep and philosophical an art and doesn't go well with squashing flies and scraping paint off walls ( something I was doing by the side as I wondered)

Like I said. Whatever happened to the Quincy Public Library.

Did it get the Quinzy?

Did it flood in those parts and affect them so brutally that they had to sell off the rarest of their rare books? Did the Klu Klux Klan get 'em?

Whatever. Their loss is my gain. I own it. The slightly yellowed, sweet smelling, ever so beautiful, First Edition of Pocahontas or The Nonparallel of Virgina by, bless him, David Garnett.

God bless Amazon.com. God bless Pari. God bless Quinzy Library, for being so agreeable so as to part with something so dear.

It was nearly a month ago when I sat, feeling rather wistful, in a Dead ( and Highly Respected) Man's library, sniffing the beautiful library he had reared. I was wistful because I felt a mixture of joy and hopelessness. I was also hopelessly stirred.

You could see it in every book, on every page, that they had had a loving master. And what an exquisite collection of books this master had owned. You could see that this was no Bestseller-reading boor. Every title read like poetry.

My nose nearly grazed the many volumes, as I scanned the shelves, resolving the fine print with uncharacteristic determination. And suddenly my spine frizzled. My eyes froze.

There sat amongst the others, Pocahontas or The Nonparallels of Virgina. Slanting ever so slightly towards the right with a queer, delicate air of its own.

I settled down to Chapter One, ignoring the Dog ( there was one nearby). An hour passed when I shook out of the spell of the book, to come to terms with the baying dog and a passing fly.

Dogs ruin life, I tell you. Flies are no Mother Teresas either. I skipped out of the Dead Man's beautiful library, cursing the brainless beasts and limped to a safer but bookless place and I sat there, lost in dreams and reveries. If the Dead Man hadn't been Dead, he would surely have lent the book to me but the Alive Woman who roosted in his place, clearly had no such social side. She pulled an unconvincing face meant to depict apology and gestured No, Fcuk Off.

But now I have it, Ihaveit my precioussss. Even better, it is the First Edition and to add to its never-ceasing charm, it's got a No Longer The Property Of Quincy Public Library stamped over it. Quincy's a loser, if you ask me. It probably got busted by the FBI for indulging in wrong practices, probably they misused CCTVs and all that.

Most likely- There's no Quincy and there's no book and there's nothing and we're just in a dream.