It’s Me – Chapter 13

I left the dictionary at the letter ‘T’, but moved the pages from those featuring ‘Thuggery’ to a double page featuring the words ‘Tome’, ‘Topic’, and ‘Treatise’, which I thought was more appropriate for a librarian, as I have never heard of thuggish librarians. I decided to inspect this small area, which I believe is referred to as an office. I nose around the desk and imagine my surprise when I see a green bulbous thing in a small brown pot. The green bulbous thing is similar to the five in my first litter tray and is filling most of the area available. My mind is working quickly because I’m wondering how a human would use such a litter tray without receiving a spike in a sensitive place. The lady librarian must enjoy a challenge, that’s all I can say. I can’t open any of the drawers in the desk, because I believe they are locked. There are lots of boxes containing reams of paper piled against the wall at one end. The other three walls contain accounts and internal communications according to the writing on the folders. Some empty boxes are wedged in a recycling bag. This is more of a store room than an office, but the lady has made it homely. There is no picture of the dog, but then she probably doesn’t want to remind anyone of who created the stains on the floor. The only other item of note is a large metal basket with a narrow slit on top as an entrance. There are narrow strips of paper inside and I believe this is called a shredder for shredding sensitive information. I should place the pictures of my rear end in this contraption, but I forget to do so, because I am distracted by the door into the rest of the library. This lay before me and I decide, in the spirit of adventure, to head out and see what is available. Before I do however, I work out my escape route should I be in a hurry when I vacate the premises.

The door leads into a corridor at the end of which is an even larger door. It is closed. There is a noise and I withdraw my head as a male human heads down the corridor to the large door. He pushes a large silver disk on the wall and the door open towards him. I wait until the door closes. I pad down the corridor and jump up at the silver disk with my front paws. There is a slight whirring sound and the door opens towards me. In the room beyond are a few people sitting at brown desks reading books and typing things into their computers. The same dark-blue floor tiles are on the floor. Some abstract art is on display. The door starts to close until I jump up and touch the silver dish again and the door stops. I go to the threshold and look out, deciding where I can run to. Unfortunately, the door closes behind me and pushes me out into the room. I locate the silver dish on the outside and jump up to hit it. The door starts to open but there’s a human coming towards me down the corridor, so I run and hide under a shelf containing some books. The human male looks at the door and then heads towards a female member of staff. They have a quiet conversation involving much pointing at the door. As the man leaves I hear him saying “Well I will report it, it’s definitely faulty again’ before he disappears down a flight of stairs.

I have a good spot for observation. It’s a gift I think that all cats have. They go to the right place to see things. I see the middle-aged man asleep in a chair with a book called ‘Bleak House’ clasped to his chest. A young couple of about 15 are watching a video in Spanish. An earnest student is reading a book on The Russian Revolution and typing some phrases into his laptop. A married couple are reading magazines sitting in chairs next to each other, but don’t acknowledge the other in any way.

The lift doors open and out steps the blue-haired librarian. Her lunch time over, she’s heading back for an afternoon’s work. I remember my works of art are still on the birthing contraption and decide to stay put because things might become interesting. Sure enough a minute later there’s a muffled yell from behind the door and the blue-haired lady is back clutching my oeuvre in her hand and shaking the works around like a fan in a hot room.

She heads over to the other female member of staff.

“These were on the photocopier, and they weren’t there before I went to lunch.”

“Let’s have a look, Angela…..well those are unusual, are these the sort of things it produces when it’s doing a test print, to highlight light and darkness, because they’re all different like it’s doing a test.”

“Well, I don’t think so, this one looks like a cat’s arse, but the other two I’m not sure about, they’re all different like someone, or something was experimenting.”

Yes, I thought, it is a cat’s arse, it’s my arse thank you very much, and you shouldn’t be dismissing it so readily. Those papers could be valuable to someone with an eye for art.

“Wait,” said the other librarian, “you don’t think we’re haunted do you? Tim was saying a few minutes ago that the door suddenly opened when he was coming down the corridor, but no one came through the door.”

“I don’t feel anything cold and clammy when I’m in there on my own,” said Angela, “I don’t feel any presence although I did feel as though I was being watched earlier on, just before lunch, you know that feeling you get when you think someone is observing you.”

Published by Julian Worker

Julian was born in Leicester, attended school in Yorkshire, and university in Liverpool. He has been to 94 countries and territories and intends to make the 100 when travel is easier. He writes travel books, murder / mysteries and absurd fiction. His sense of humour is distilled from The Marx Brothers, Monty Python, Fawlty Towers, and Midsomer Murders. His latest book is about a Buddhist cat who tries to help his squirrel friend fly further from a children's slide.

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