Footnotes from the Quattuorvirate of Lameness IV: Mrs. Quaalude ("LOST" ROGUES WEEK DAY 4)

The patron known as Mrs. Quaalude is actually one of the nicest people you'd ever care do deal with and is certainly not a "rogue" per se. She is however a difficult person to deal with in that everything takes three times as long to explain to her due to her brain seeming to be in a fog. I don't know that Mrs. Quaalude is necessarily medicated, but it would sure explain a few things. Not only does it take longer for her to understand things being said to her, it takes her a long time to communicate to others because her speech is very... very... slow... and... her... voice... so... very... very... low... and... tranquil... like...a slower... female version... of the... Hal 9000. You can feel yourself... getting... drowsy, just talking to her... as though the condition is... psychically... contagious.

While Mrs. Quaalude does check out the occasional book, her real claim to infame is as a computer patron. She used to come in weekly to check her email or otherwise surf the net, but for a very long time she needed assistance doing so with nearly every aspect of it. Often that assistance came in the form of her daughter, who would roll her eyes and explain to her mother, for the umpteenth time, over the course of 15 minutes, how to find H0tmail. A few months later, though, her daughter went all goth-chick on us, which meant that while she would come to the library she was way too cool to hang with mom anymore, so it was up to the "liberry" staff to help Mrs. Quaalude navigate the mysteries of the web. To Mrs. Quaalude's credit, our lessons did eventually take and by the time she stopped showing up as often she rarely needed help at all.

I know for a fact I've had several noteworthy and frustrating experiences with Mrs. Quaalude, but because I failed to write them down, (or perhaps because of her psychically contagious brain fog), I cannot relate them here even from memory.

Footnotes from the Quattuorvirate of Lameness III: Narcoleptic Nelson ("LOST" ROGUES WEEK DAY 4)

Much like his name suggests, Narcoleptic Nelson was a genuine narcoleptic. At any given point in the day, his head might nod forward and he would find himself asleep. This no doubt caused problems for him while walking and driving, but we only ever witnessed him nodding off while he was using our patron computers. Each week, on the same day, Narcoleptic Nelson would arrive to use a computer and the staff would begin making wagers as to how long it would take the man to surrender to the sweet grasp of Morpheus. It usually took no longer than 10 minutes.

Narcoleptic Nelson's computer sleeping habits were really not a problem for us otherwise. No, the only hassles we endured as a result were usually doled out by other patrons, who didn't appreciate having to wait to use a computer that was currently occupied by someone who was fast asleep. The usual complainant in such cases was our old friend Parka, however, a person whose happiness in life we couldn't have cared less about. Our point to him was twofold: A) while we don't encourage it, we technically have no policies against sleeping in the library; and B) we give each of our patrons half an hour on the computer and if they choose to use their time asleep it's all the same to us. Parka was not amused. We were.

Narcoleptic Nelson has not been seen in quite some time. I hope this means he's off being the subject of an intensive sleep study, rather than the less-pleasant notion that he crashed his car on the way there.

Footnotes from the Quattuorvirate of Lameness II: T-Shirt Man ("LOST" ROGUES WEEK DAY 3)

A similar character to Sad Sack, T-Shirt Man basically fulfilled exactly the same patron role—that of a quiet, loner, oddball, given to behaving himself at all time—albeit wearing a white T-shirt, year round.

But why?

For a long time I suspected that T-Shirt Man chose to wear only white T-shirts because he couldn't afford any other kind of shirt. However, in this day and age, t-shirts come in a wide variety of styles and colors, all for pretty much the same price. This guy could choose a different color for every day, but he sticks with white. This has lead me to theorize that T-Shirt Man, much like his fellow patron, Fatty Manchild, must have spent a goodly number of years in a coma following a period of arrested fashion development.

T-Shirt Man's fashion arrest may have come after viewing the classic biker gang flick, The Wild One. In this theory, T-Shirt Man went to see The Wild One and really thought the look sported by the young Marlon Brando—white ringer t-shirt stretched over his frame, biker jacket, hat, angst in eyes—was super keen. Unable to find himself a proper ringer T-shirt, biker jacket or hat, though, T-Shirt Man settled for plain ol' white and began sporting the look as best he could manage. Then, following a tragic 15 mph moped accident, T-Shirt Man was sent into a coma and awoke 30 years later to find himself in a world he hadn't made, fashion sense forever frozen that moment in his youth. And his vanilla, white-clad, "Mild" One saga continues to this day during his rare visits to the "liberry."

(T-Shirt man also disinguishes himself from Sad Sack by his ability to use a computer, no doubt prowling ebay for bulk deals on more of his namesake.)

Footnotes from the Quattuorvirate of Lameness I: Sad Sack ("LOST" ROGUES WEEK DAY 3)

There are four patrons who I had great hopes would one day expose themselves as rogues, or at least rise to the position of benign irritants. Alas, they have not yet managed and remain footnote characters with little story potential. They have become the Quattuorvirate of Lameness. Their first member is Sad Sack...

Sad Sack was named because he looks exactly like the old comic character of the same name, albeit with about 30 years and 30 pounds under his belt. He's too young to have been in WWII himself, but perhaps there is still a connection to the original character.

Poor Sad Sack. After he was finally discharged from the Army (still at the rank of private) and was able to escape the gaze of the irate Sgt. Circle, he quickly found that he was incapable of maneuvering the perils of life without the rigidity of military structure. He wound up going off the rails and became a drifter, traveling from state to state. Eventually he made his way to West Virginia, where he remembered he was far too lazy to try and hike over all those mountains. So he put down stakes, married himself local gal and eventually produced a son who grew up to resemble his father in both look and manner.

The son went on to haunt the streets of small towns, doing odd jobs and occasionally inquiring at the local "liberry" about obscure medical conditions he thought he might have.

Sad Sack Jr. is today a rare sight.