The Day I Touched a Condom at the Library

Closing up the library for the day, I went down to the basement and noticed a box of condoms on the drinking fountain.

"Hm," I said to myself. "How odd..."

Just then I was reaching for the door handle to the men's restroom--and I touched something slimy. It was a lubed-up condom.

"So hot," I whispered.

I mean, I yelled : "GROSS!"

At first I assumed it was some psychopathic germophobe--rolling the ol' prophylactic on the men's restroom door handle--but then Paul, the gay vegan, appeared to me in a thought balloon.

"The basement bathroom used to a be a major hook-up for gay men a few years ago," he said in his best Obi-Wan voice. "It was on all the gay hook-up sites. Gay hook-ups are awesome. You should try hooking up gay some time, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what-- Hey, don't go!"

Paul dissolved in a cloud of beard.

I went back upstairs and used the hand sanitizer like there was no tomorrow, or today.

Meanwhile there was a theft in progress. An ugly lady in a tie-dyed shirt and combat shorts pushed around an old woman in a wheelchair. She pulled Blu-rays from our shelves and tucked them away in the chair. With my hands shining, I stationed myself at the doors with my badge on display. Little did the thief lady know how little I am on the inside, but my bluff worked because as she went for the doors, and even went so far as to push the handicapped button, she made a quick U-turn just as I was approaching to ask her, politely, if she needed any help? She then took the elevator down, apparently to use the restrooms and steal the condoms.

When she came back up, we were waiting for her. As she rolled for the exit, Carol cheerily said, "Thanks for stealing!" but under her breath. But the thief was acutely eared, apparently. She whirled around and said, "What did you say?"

"I said, thanks for coming!" Carol said, lamely.

"What's your name? You people are rude!" the woman yelled, and then rolled out to freedom with her heisted Chronicle of Riddicks in hi-definition.

Later we found all the cases stuffed in the tampon dispenser in the woman's restroom.

But, wait. There's more. As Carol and I were doing the paperwork for all the condom and tampon excitement, I mentioned how the library had been, and possibly was, a gay hook-up place. That it was now a good place for burgling both Blu-rays and turds.

Carol let out a cry of dismay. She was googling our library and had found a one-star Yelp! review. Taking a deep breath, she read aloud:

"The Cherry Creek library has some of the laziest, most slovenly staff I've ever seen at a library. 

My lovely wifey and I visited this location just a few days ago to find two "librarians" sitting at the front desk. One was busily reading a book while the female was busily typing away on her Facebook page or Twitter entries, not even looking up. There was a man with a long, hard angry face sitting behind the "research" desk staring off into the middle distance appearing to be discreetly mining for nasal gold while we looked for new movies on the rack. Perhaps he was angry because there wasn't enough material for him to work with at the time? Or maybe he was thinking about his tax returns or mind-crippling boring job-for-life?

 Nice to get a library job and never have to work again for the rest of your life or just sit and digging away in your nasal caverns. 

Lazy, entitled, Denver elite staff apparently being paid by our tax money for the rest of their lives to read books, engage in social media, play games, shop on eBay, or dig in their noses while angrily staring out of nearby windows...."

Carol looked up. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going down to the basement. I need a quick pick-me-hook-up."