Mobile Farting Videos
An old friend helps Erin remember.
Since Father spoon fed me the Old Testament since I was in diapers, I figured I could ace that. Just getting the physical work done was the problem. Greek? Maybe there was something I could use from Humbolt's assignment for my Greek final paper. Feeling a little better, I headed to the the library.
The librarian, Mrs. Winters, gave me a strange look when I asked for the key to the restricted section. She made a phone call, and found what Humbolt told me, that I was to be given access to it for the rest of the semester.
She shook her head. I thought I heard her say, "One of those."
"Excuse me?" I said.
Her eyes glittered with something cold.
"Never you mind." Her voice to the temperature of an Arctic cold spell.
We made our way into the bowels of the building down a set of very narrow stairs. I had to turn my shoulders sides ways so I could fit down the staircase. The basement was cool, dry, and climate controlled. Metal stacks rose around us, filled with antique books, musty with time and broken dreams of imagined glory. Mrs. Winters led to me a table with a chair in the middle of the stacks.
"I think you'll find everything you are looking for here," she said.
"I don't understand," I said. "You put out the books for me?"
She shook her head. "No. The others, they took them out. I just don't bother to put them back."
"Because, there is always one of you. And you always take the same books."
"Well, thanks Mrs. Winters."
"Hmph," she said as if she didn't expect me to be polite. " Here is a key to the side entrance of the library, in case you get locked in. You'll return it at the end of the semester, or you'll be charged with replacing the locks."
"Again, thanks Mrs. Winters."
"Hmph," she said again. And then she climbed the stairs to leave me alone with the books.
I worked late into the afternoon, looking over the books, getting a feel for the material, making notes. No wonder these works were in the restricted section. There were testaments that were thrown out of canon, books on some of the greatest heretics of Christianity, one book the decried the work of Martin Luther, translations of the Nag Hammadi scriptures. It was a mixed bag of apostasy and heterodoxy. Humbolt wanted a paper out of this?
My father would have a fit if he saw these books.
My stomach started to grumble and it sounded like a good idea to eat. The sense of wrongness that pervaded me that past couple days was easing. I suppose I could cobble together something out of this mess of documents to satisfy him. After all I was at the stage in my education where expressing my own opinion was encouraged. I'd call all this trash, in an academically acceptable way, of course, and he couldn't complain that I didn't do the work. One hundred pages was stretching it, but if I put in a certain amount of time each day, I could get there.
"You're leaving so soon, Mr. Goodwin?" said Mrs. Winters as I passed her desk. "Will you be back tonight?"
"No. Tomorrow. I'm getting something to eat."
"You certainly seem optimistic."
"Why wouldn't I be?"
She sniffed and leaned forward conspiratorially. "None of Humbolt's students with this assignment ever finish."
"I can't imagine why."
She gave me a look of disbelief.
"We'll see, Mr. Goodwin."
I shrugged. "Goodnight, Mrs. Winters."
Though the afternoon sun cast long shadows, it as still sunny, and warmth was a welcome contrast from the chill of the library basement. Somehow, someway I was going to work my way out of this mess of a semester.
Then I saw her.
Her black hair flowed in waves to her shoulders, her slim body packed into a skin tight black dress. Her heels were red, matching her painted lips and had to be four inches tall. She sat on the stone wall that contained the shrubs on the left side of the library. Mary slid off the stones in a fluid motion.
"There you are, Wil."
I tried to walk past her. She quickly walked to my side.
"How was the library?"
"Fine," I said keeping my eyes ahead.