(Setting: My "liberry." A large and repulsively stinky
man—stinkier still than Mr. Stanky himself—arrives and signs up for a
computer. Our computers are all full and a female patron is already
waiting for the one that's about to become available.)
ME— It's going to be a few minutes before we have a computer for you.
MR. STANKIER— Oh, do you think so?
ME— Yeah, I'm pretty sure.
(I
go back to the computer hall, see that there is now a free computer,
log it off and back on and then start back up front to tell the female
patron her computer is ready. As I pass through the children's room, Mr.
Stankier is on his way back to the computer hall.)
MR. STANKIER— So, you got me fixed up?
ME— (Pause) No. No, I don't. Like I said, it's going to be a few minutes before we have a computer available for you.
MR. STANKIER— Oh. A few minutes, then?
ME— Yes.
(What
I really want to say to him, though, is: "What the hell is it with all
the large, rock stupid, foul and stinky patrons we seem to attract? Is
there a club of you guys I'm unaware of? And does it meet in the ass of a
dead dog?")
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