Jack the Ripper

“What can I help you with?” Jack asked the middle-aged woman standing in front of him at the information desk. He was always happy to help. The woman’s wiry, grey streaked hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. Jack rubbed his hand over his bald as he looked down at the woman, glad for once that he didn’t have to worry about hair care.

“My book is missing the last page,” she said urgently, pushing a copy of The Help towards Jack as if it were diseased.

Jack frowned and put on his glasses. “Missing, you say?” he questioned as he picked up the book and flipped through the musty pages of the hardcover novel, stopping at where the last page was supposed to be.

“Yes, the last page I said! Who would do such a thing?” the woman demanded as she took a frizzed-curl strand of hair and twisted it around her finger. 

“I’m sure it was an accident,” Jack replied calmly, placing the book down and typing, The Help, into the computer in front of him. “It looks like we have two more copies available in the fiction section so you’re in luck,” he told her, pointing to the back of the library.

The woman appeared irritated as her eyes followed his fingers. “I know where the fiction section is,” she snapped, “But someone should really check these books when people return them to make sure they are in good condition. Whoever checked this book out before me should be charged a fee!”

“I understand your frustration, Ma’am, and we will take the steps necessary to make sure this is taken care of,” he forced a smile at her as she stormed off behind him towards the fiction section.

“Another one?” Fran asked from the computer behind him. Today, Fran was wearing overalls and a plaid shirt to work. Does she think this is a farm? Jack wondered to himself. Fran always had on a different, tacky, outfit every day while Jack wore the same khakis and blue polos as if they were his uniform.

“Uh huh,” Jack said, placing the book in a bin with the others.

“How many is that now?” Fran asked, turning her head towards Jack.

“Seven, as far as I know,” he said, scratching his bald head.

“And it’s always the last page?” she asked, swiveling her chair back and forth, an act that always bothered Jack. Everything she did bothered Jack.

“Uh huh,” he responded, getting up to take his lunch break.

“What kind of loser would waste their time ripping pages out of books?” she inquired as she spun her chair in a circle.

“I’ll be back in thirty,” he said, ignoring her last question and trying not to roll his eyes. He grabbed his lunch pouch from beneath his desk before walking to the employee room.

Fran got up and took over Jack’s seat for customer duty. “I’m timing you!” she said in her best whisper-voice as Jack walked across the room to have lunch. Not to disturb the patrons, Jack turned and gave her a thumbs up and then walked towards the employee lounge.

Jack stepped inside the empty, windowless, room and closed the door, letting out a deep breath. That had been a thrill; he had been wondering when someone would find that missing page. He’d ripped the page out of The Help almost a year ago and it had taken this long for someone to report it. The novel had even been checked out by two customers earlier that year who had brought it back in, with no mention to the library at all about the missing page. Either they hadn’t wanted to complain, or they hadn’t actually read it. It was a letdown both times for Jack.

Jack sat down and opened his lunch: egg salad on wheat toast, carrots, and grapes. He was on a new health kick. He needed to lose about fifty more pounds, his doctor told him a few months ago. He’d lost ten so far just by cutting out chips and soda. It wasn’t so hard to do something when you put your mind to it.

“Fatso,” the kids on the school bus in elementary school used to call him. But he didn’t mind. He buried his nose in his books and learned to drown out their remarks in his stories.

“Lazy,” he had overheard his dad telling his mom when he was about ten. But he ignored it. He just read books and escaped into the characters’ lives.

“Fatass,” the teens in high school murmured when he passed by them in the hallway. But he tuned them out and read.

Books were his friends. Books didn’t let him down. And now Jack and his friends were getting revenge on the world in the small means that they could. 

He took a bite of his sandwich as soggy egg salad dribbled down his chin. He scooped it off and wiped it under the table. He smiled to himself, thinking of the next employee who would have their lunch in this room wondering where the odor was coming from. He wondered how long it would be until someone found the egg mash under the table. Maybe days? Weeks?

He took a bite of his carrot and took out his phone, opening the library app to see what popular novels were available today. This was his ritual. Each time someone brought the vandalized book to the information desk, he chose a new novel to rip. He had to make sure not to pick one that was checked out all the time. A best seller from a few years back that people still took out once and a while. So far, he had ripped the last page of The Help, The Kite Runner, My Sisters Keeper, Bel Canto, Running with Scissors (how ironic was that for a name?), The Da Vinci Code, and The Girl Who Played with Fire. It usually took a few weeks for someone to bring the book to the information desk, but The Help had been his longest one yet. Jack had a dreadful time waiting.

He scrolled through the available books and came upon a winner, Life of Pi: a best seller from 2006, yet no one was joining any waiting list to read it. He smirked at his decision and finished his lunch in a hurry, too excited for his next venture to enjoy the meal. He checked the time; he had about ten minutes left until it was Fran’s turn for lunch. He threw his trash in the bin and casually walked out of the employee lounge, looking left and then right. His stomach was beginning to twist, eager nerves ready for his mission.

“Excuse me sir, do you work here?” an elderly lady asked, approaching Jack as he walked across the library. He looked down at the lady, peeved that she approached him instead of going to the information desk. This was his lunch break.

He sighed, “Yes, I do. What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to get a book on gardening. Can you tell me where I can find one?” she asked, her innocent eyes gleaming up at Jack.

Jack turned around and pointed behind him. “Over there in the nonfiction section. Look under g for gardening. There should be several over there,” he said as he started to walk towards the fiction section before she could ask him anymore questions.

“Oh, thank you, son,” she said as she began to walk in the opposite direction as him.

Jack approached the M’s in the fiction section, scanning for Martel. He found two copies available and looked both ways before picking one up and carefully placing it in his lunch pouch. He ran his hand over his head and quickly scurried towards the men’s room, holding the lunchbox protectively over his chest, like a bomb about to go off.

As he passed by the customer service desk, he heard Fran call out, “Five minutes, Jack,” and he nodded his head towards her in recognition and then pushed himself quickly into the bathroom, locking the deadbolt behind him. With shaky hands, he took the book out of his lunch box, smoothing his hand over the cover, the tiger staring at him fearlessly. He opened to the back of the book and glanced over the last page, scanning what the reader would miss out on. He smiled to himself, surreptitiously. This was his favorite part. He slowly ripped the page, closing his eyes so that he could enjoy the sound of the paper tearing. He folded the page and placed it in his lunch box to take home after work. He would add it to his collection at home. Placing the book under his arm, he exited the bathroom, waving to Fran as he passed her.

“Be right there,” he said as he walked back to the bookshelf and placed the novel back in its place. As he walked back to relieve Fran for her lunch, he couldn’t help but wonder who the next target would be. A wealthy woman looking to bring a beach read with her on her boat? A teenage girl wanted to read a best seller? A book club member adding it to their list? Most of his readers were women; women who read the entire novel and then were cheated out of the end. Just like Jack had been cheated out of his life. He relished in the fact that they could get a little taste of what his life felt like for once. 

“Have a nice lunch,” Jack said as he approached Fran, smiling to himself at the vision of Fran entering the employee lounge, filled with the stench of egg salad.

“Thanks,” Fran said as she picked up her lunch and walked towards the lounge.

It’s the little things in life that keep me going, Jack thought to himself with a proud smile as he looked around the library. The little things. He smiled as a customer walked up to the desk, probably needing help finding a book.

“What can I help you with?” he asked with a grin. He was always happy to help.