Well, Whaddya Know

So's you know, libraries ain't my thing.

I never opened a book in my life 'cept when I had to. School, right? What a trip. Goons and whores, pretending to be kids. Not the other way around. And a fucking zoo. Who could learn?

I don't even really like movies, either. TV's okay if you can find a fight or some basketball. Or a classic car auction, although not many cars beat my beauty. But movies, books... just a buncha lies some sucker wrote for other suckers to buy and read. What's the point?

Funny, it was my beauty that landed me in the fuckin' library to begin with. She stalled out, choked a little, spit out some smoke and let me coast her into the slanted parking space. Shit.

It was so stinkin' hot, and the library sat alone on a stretch outside of town. No place to call from or wait for a tow except there. Oroville was a small town in Northern California, and it got to 120 more than once during that summer. But California’s a crazy place to live, anyway. Fires, mudslides, droughts, floods, more fires, and some batshit crazy politicians. 

Oh well, it'll be air conditioned, I thought, fanning my face. I was blinded for a minute, inside the door, my eyes, still squinting from the sun, now trying to make out where the damned phone booth was.  Blinking a little still, I went to the desk. The broad behind the counter made a big deal of not seeing me, so’s I just straight up asked. “Where’s the phone booth?”

“The… I beg your pardon?”

“The phone booth. My cell died and I need to make a call.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. We no longer have a public phone.”

“Well, I’m broken down in your parking lot, blocking the fire hydrant.”

Pursing her lips. “There’s no fire hydrant out there.”

“I know… I just didn’t know if you knew. Now be nice and let me use your phone, I’ve got a ’57 T-Bird hurting out there.”

I know broads, and this one liked attention. A typical Karen, that yellow, bell shaped haircut, kinda fat, kinda sad, but dressy and smelling good. No wedding rings on her puffy fingers. She got a little pink when she brought me the phone.

I wasn’t happy when I got off the phone. Two fuckin’ hours? 

The Karen smiled, still not sure if she wanted to be nasty or nice. “Problem?”

“Yeah, problem. Tow truck won’t be here for two hours, at least.”

“Well… there’s a pop machine around the corner, on the way to the restrooms. Do you have a library card? Well, no matter… feel free to relax and read while you wait for the tow truck. We don’t close for another four hours.”

She was tryin’ to be nice, and I appreciated it, but relax and read? I headed for the soda machine, trying not to stomp, and got myself a Diet Coke. After I had a drink, I looked around, and realized hey. Pretty nice, this place.

I had my choice of places to sit, for one thing. There was a kinda living room set of furniture, with end tables and lamps, and a coffee table with new newspapers and magazines on it. There were armchairs and the like scattered here and there throughout the big rooms, and an area with long folding tables and benches, for school kids, and other study areas sized more for adults.

Thing was, I didn’t want to read. I’d never tried reading besides what got beat out of me when I was in school. I’d learned to read, and I could write okay, but as far as reading? A book? 

I looked at my watch.  A sixty five hundred dollar Omega counts the same time as a Walmart knock off. The bad news wasn’t sweetened one bit by my diving (I hate the water) watch. An hour and 50 minutes to go.

At my elbow: “Problem?”

“Jesus!” I jumped a foot it seemed, and The Karen giggled, snorting a little.

“Sorry,” she lied.

“Oh, are you?”

“So what’s the trouble?” she gestured at the stacks and stacks of books. “Need help picking something out?”

“Nah, I’ll probably just tip back and close my eyes. To be honest, I don’t like books.”

“Not like books!”

“Nah… maybe it’s my eyes or somethin’, I just never got into reading. It’s just a bunch of lies, made up stuff to make money.”

“Hmmm.” She took her time thinkin’, then snapped her fingers. Pointed at this one big recliner that had a smaller, straighter chair next to it. “Go sit, I’ll be right there.”

She didn’t seem like a lady to take no for an answer, and the chair looked good, so I did what I was told. In a flash she was back, a little breathless from rushing. And holding a book.

“Whatcha got there?”

She showed me the cover. A hell of a beautiful old car, red, on the cover. And letters, dripping blood: Christine.

“Christine?”

“It’s about a car. It’s by Stephen King!”

I didn’t know who the fuck Stephen King was but that car was a beaut all right.  And then, to my amazement, The Karen said, “would you like me to read a little to you?”

“What? No! I can read. I can read! I just don’t like to read.” 

“Sit back, Mr… what is your name?”

“Is that important?”

She turned a little red. “Certainly not. Very well, I’ll just come out and say it. I love to read aloud. It’s one of the delights of working here, reading to the children. But, of course, that’s very limited reading indeed.”

“Right… and, so…”.

“And,” she was tougher now, “and sit back, and see if you like this book. If you do, you can fill out a library card and take it with you to read on your own. If you don’t, well, you killed the time waiting for the tow truck.”

And you know, something about her just kinda hit me. Her eyes – dark blue, pretty, I noticed just then – her eyes sparkled and her cheeks got pink. She must have been pushing sixty like me, but she carried it better. And I’ve always liked healthy sized women.

“Go ahead, I guess.” I told her. “But, since you asked, my name’s Brutus.”

“Hello Brutus. I’m Karen.”