3D Stop Motion Dark Fantasy

Someone I haven't talked about at the library here in Duluth, which is where this library is, is a wispy waify pale frail coworker by the name of Coraline.

(Actually skinnier.)

Coraline started two years ago, another refugee from B&N. On her first day she was returning books to the max and I thought, hey, let's say some words! That new person is a bit quiet and shy but I'll draw her out with my charm and wit, so I belched under my breath, spit out my baccy plug, and right proper asked her about what movies or teevee stories she liked? She told me she had just finished binge watching all twelve seasons of NCIS. (record needle scratch) I looked at her again. No, she was not 82. While she acted octogenarianly at times she was actually 27. Later I learned that she was writing a mystery novel. Most likely with a octogenarian lady sleuth. She wrote in a notebook with a machine-precision hand, every twee letter printed as if on a Mesopotamian clay tablet. Being a pretend-writer myself, I felt curious about her fictional effusions, but never became so curious as to ask about them out loud. More often, in lieu of writing, she was seen reading books like Have the Courage to Write and Find Your Inner Bore. She also read books on phobias and anxiety. One phobia she seemed to lack was a fear of gigantism since she dated a seven-foot tree of a man, Crane, whom she had met on Tinder. He was a valet at a hospital, and he had valeted his way to her heart. Coraline was not unpopular at Ruby Creek, but not popular either. Over time she settled in to the point of bland invisibility. After a year she decided she wanted to achieve the exalted level of Clerk. When Iris left in October we needed to fill the vacancy and Karen promised to plug Coraline in like a pinch between your cheek and gum. It's here that the dark fantasy begins. This paragraph is getting so long I'm wondering if anyone is reading anymore. I like to blow myself. Happy in her wispy way to have the job promised to her, Coraline quit her part-time job at Whole Foods in the wondrous anticipation of getting full-time work at the library. In Duluth. Everything was super until Coraline started fucking up. Maybe she got too relaxed. Maybe she felt Mommy/Karen would take care of her no matter what. I don't know for sure because that would have meant talking to her. Anyway we had a special day at the library for Christmas (aka raping the planet, ala Todd) and Coraline was scheduled to work. She didn't show up. Nor did she call or text. It turned out she has a medical issue that I won't divulge on this blog because, while I'm a horrible person, I have my limits. (Pats self.) The next day she wrote a long email of apology, explaining why it happened. Karen was not pleased. She started to doubt the wisdom of promising the job. By this point we had interviewed other candidates, all seeming worthy in their own way. Karen told me she thought we shouldn't hire Coraline now. I had a number of objections, namely, decency and humanity. (Pats self.) "Er," I said, "Didn't Coraline already quit her other job because she thought she was getting the job here?" "But she fucked up," Karen said euphemistically. "True," I said. "Hm." We had not yet interviewed her; she was actually our last interview. In the manner of Kongming from the Han Dynasty of China, I counseled patience and circumspection and noodles. "Let's interview her, and then see how she does." Karen agreed, and then in her inimitable style

"Thank God there's an image to break up this tedious paragraph!"

she did a 180, or maybe a 190--I'd have to get out my engineering calculator--and called Coraline into the office. They talked. Things were said. Coraline withdrew herself from consideration for the job. I later learned that Coraline felt she had been "bullied" out of the job, which led to her telling the tale of being bullied as a Brownie. There was a mean girl in her Brownie troop. This mean girl bullied Coraline all the time, in the tents, in the log cabins, at the front of grocery stores selling cookies. And over the years who did this awful bully become?

"STOP!! THE SPOTLIGHT IS BURNING MY EYEBALLS!!!"

That's right. That bully became Miss America 2014!!! Who righteously competed on an anti-bully campaign. "My brother attacked her so much on Twitter that Twitter banned him," Coraline said. "Heh heh," I said for no reason. But let's face it, Karen is no Miss America. And I'm no John F Kennedy. And you, reader, are no longer reading. To add to the fun, Coraline told me that she had a goodbye party at Whole Foods and not a single person showed up for it. Hm. I suppose you could say I'm bullying her now on this blog. Does that mean I'll become Mr Universe 2022?!? That's so intriguing. My oily muscles are...

"What's up, hooker?" Todd said, interrupting my erotic train of thought.

"Just bloggin'."

Bein' casual, I threw away a piece of paper that had been taped to my computer (SEE JONAH AT NEXT STATION).

"What are you doing?!"

"What?"

Todd retrieved the sheet of paper from the recycle bin. Along the top edge was a segment of Scotch tape. Todd carefully peeled the tape off the paper, like pulling off a wing from a live insect.

"You can't put this in the recycling. It'll contaminate the stream, you ding dong!"

"Oh, come on. It's..."

"Blog it, bitch."

All right. I will. I will write the longest-- Oops. Looks like we've out of space. Fine. I'll blog about Todd next week! THAT'LL SHOW HIM