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Thirty Lonely Librarians

The spirits visited me again last night. I was chosen for the cleanliness of my organs. They left me with a puff pastry which I ate and it made me sing like an Irish man.

I opened the window. It was a fine day. It smelt of flowers and the birds were chirping. It was Sunday, so no one was out. Everyone was sleeping in and soon would go to church. I put my leg up on the chair, which was my singing stance, and thought of lonely, barren, scraggly hills like in Braveheart, and I sang.

It was an epic song about the sea, a boy and his father. They got lost and found an island inhabited by thirty lonely librarians. Tried as they might to keep their hair up and wrapped neatly, the librarians failed miserably. Hair was growing on their legs. They ate gogo nuts and mangos.

The father, a drunken beast, was at a loss for words stepping off the boat. For the past week headaches, hunger, and a disappearing heart consumed him. He saw the librarians through the trees and wanted nothing more than a drink. He knew they would have rum.

The boy was also hungry. Before he left he met a girl named Annie and a peculiar sensation took hold of him. Why did she render him speechless? It was the memory of her and their interactions that got him through that week at sea.

The librarians were like manifestations of his mind and all the dirty thoughts he'd been having in the boat. The boy and his father would go on to hump every one of them. It was no wonder they looked so dejected when saved from the "horrible ones", or the "island of rampant librarians" as they were referred to as on the outside. The search and rescue team thought they were doing them a favour. At least the boy's father could have a drink again. He thought of staying sober, but if he didn't have thirty lonely librarians, then nothing could replace the companionship of drink.

The boy, however, was a mess. He had high expectations of Annie when he returned. She would be the equivalent of thirty lonely librarians. When he saw her, she had her hands down another boys pants and was taking hits from the crack pipe. A crack whoor, thought the boy, and spit on the ground.

"You can have your crack, Annie! I have the librarians, and I'm going back!" He shouted. His father had different plans for him and sent him to the shoe factory.

The last time I sang that song it was outside a mall in a pedestrian street. I drew a crowd and people gave me pennies.

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