The Library on Planet Triyn

The hormanchers always come in and start a big ol' rally-o-rips, and it's my job to see to it they don't go hankacher the place down. I'm a librarian by trade, but sometimes I feel more like a body-protector. As the oldies sit and read—and sip on their glourp—it's my job to round up the rough-neckers and throw them out on their zizzerts. But these hormanchers were much too big for me to handle myself, and there were three of them tussling and knocking down selves as if this were the local fight square. I had to get Fitty to help me round them up: Fitty was strong and weighed 56 quippers. He was half the size of a roamerbot. And he could fight with the best of them.

I ran up the stairs to Fitty’s private ovur and knocked on his door, before letting myself in. Fitty turned in his chair (a copy of the diperache in his hand) and stared at me with pressed brows and glowing eyes. Fitty was a mean son of a glibber.

“There's three of them, hormanchers, and they're going to tear the place down if we don't act fast! I can't finner all three of them out the door myself; they're too big!”

Fitty turned back in his chair, took off his lens caps, and laid them on his desk.

“You know I don't like to be interrupted, especially while I'm reading,” he said.

“I know, I know, but this is an emergency!”

Fitty stood up and walked around his desk to follow: duty called; we had to answer.

“Alright then, let's go.”

I led the way, running and almost tripping over my own feet as I leaped off the last foot-chap, and we rushed into the common room, Fitty right behind me.

“Alright, Alright, break it up!” yelled Fitty and the two of us rushed over and grabbed the plichers of two of the hormanchers. Mine was scrappy and broke loose; he gave me a left swing, but I ducked and punched him in the scisit. The third tried to jump in, but Fitty was so powerful he sent him up and out with a swift shell of the foot. We each had one under control and we pushed them through the door and out into the rueboar. Then I went to round up the third (it was my job, after all) and tossed him out on his zizzert. I walked back to the common room; Fitty standing there menacing and irritated.

“You have to stop them before they start,” he said to me.

“I know, but I can never tell when they're going to start. It's different every time.”

“Don't they start with reap-roar?”

“Sometimes they do, sometimes they don't,” I said as I walked back behind my desk. “What's become of this place? It was never like this before?”

“It's a new age, comrade. This government-power imposing control has every man, creature and vipper in a lot. Me and the dotchy will me out of our cannel if things don't change. I can't afford it, this life, this job... too much work and not enough bonch.”

“I know, but there has to be a better way to live than this. One day, we're going to get hurt. I took this job for my love of reading, not to scrapper snatch with every vipper in a lot. This can't go on.”

“Maybe it's time to look for a new job, comrade.”

It was something I poured on from day to titch, and I couldn’t help but think Fitty was right. Maybe it is time for a new vocan, but what? I poured. What could a simple human like me do?

Later on, when things were pier, a young vechner came in, and she had a look on her smock that caught my eye. And how hot she was! I could've taken her back behind the library shelves, where the kiddies don't play and frisked her down with lustful rapidity. It was her eyes that got me: big, beautiful; dark like the moons of Liptar, with a shine that could bring a man to his knees. Human females were rare in this part of the Coveray. Maybe for me, it had been too long since I saw one as faussist as she was.

“Hi, could I trouble you with helping me find a publica?” she asked as she approached.

“No trouble at all, that's why I'm here,” I said, as I flashed her a smile. She smiled back with those plump lips, bringing out the glow on her smock. “What is it you're looking for, hun?”

“It's a book that...” she paused and moved in closer, “it’s sort of taboo.”

“You don't say? What's it about?”

“A lot of things. It's called The Occuli Assultist, but it's the sub-title that might alarm you... It's: How to Prang a Bib-Bop.”

“A Bib-Bip? Why would you want to learn something like that?” I asked, alarmed but intrigued.

“It's a messy matter... it's not for me to say. I wouldn't actually do it, but it's for an educutis I'm taking.”

“What kind of educutis? Are you training to be a power-protector?”

“No, no, Nothing like that, Silly. It's research.”

I felt compelled not to look for this book; perhaps I could lie and say it wasn't on the shelves. But as I tip-tapped on the computer board, it came up in the inventory. I hesitated a moment before saying,

“Well, we have it here... I don't think I've ever seen anyone check it out before.”

“Where is it?”

“... why did you say it was a messy matter, but then say it was only for research?”

She paused, thought, and giggled.

“I don't know, I was afrai... I don't know. I wasn't thinking. It's nothing, really, it's nothing.”

“What if a power-protector comes in and asks questions about this? What shall I say?”

“You can say whatever you please; it won't matter by then.”

“Well... I dunno... I'm not sure If I...”

“I'll give you something. Something special, only for you, cuties,” she said, and she gave me a wink.

It was the way she said it: something didn't feel rapportmont. As if she was using me and thought I was stupid. But I knew what to say: I knew how to control women. She wasn't going to get the best of me.

“Sure, anything you want,” I said, giving her a wink back.

My mouth said the opposite of what my mind was thinking. Stupid me.

“Follow me. I'll show you where it is.”

I led the way in a pits, trying to keep my cool, but I was blowing it. One of the kiddies came up and tugged on my walkerchautes and I look down at him.

“Can you help me find the new Mr. Matchu book?” he asked.

“Sure thing, just let me help this nice lady, and then I’ll be right with you.”

“Thanks.”

He walked away, and the vechner looked at me with melted eyes.

“Awe, you're so sweet with the lippers. I love lippers, they're so cute!”

“Yeah, they keep me young. I love my job... except when the horse-knocking and putter foots shoo about and tear the place down.”

“They do what?”

“Oh yeah. I had to throw three rough-neckers out myself earlier. Big ones.”

“Ouuu, I bet you’re really strong.”

“That's why they keep me here.”

I knew I had her now: she was impressed. How could she not be? I was a damn good librarian, and I knew it. Probably the best on the entire planet. No, the best in the entire galaxy.

I took her to where the book was and pulled it off the shelf.

“Here you go, lovely. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, you've been enough help already.”

“Well, how about I help you fill that slim little stomach of yours sometime?”

“What?”

“By taking you out to a food spot, I know a great little place. We can have some grapies and pillomeds as well. What do you say?”

She thought for a moment, but I knew what she was going to say: there was only one thing she could say to me, the greatest librarian in the universe.

“Okay, I think that would be darmish!”

She gave me her digitals and left, leaving me with a proud smirk on my face. I had her, I could feel it.

She never did answer her pitofan. I thought I had her, but I guess I was wrong. Two weeks later, a Bib-Bop exploded in a metro, injuring 5 humans and 14 vippers. No one was killed. I never found out if she had anything to do with it, and I didn’t want to know. Nothing has changed for me; I'm still stuck here, breaking up rally-o-rips and helping the kiddies find books. What a life!