>Kitty: Stay calm. Do you have your towel?
Oh god, she left it upstairs! Why did she do that? Did Douglas Adams teach her nothing!? No one is going to want to sass that hoopy Kitten Last-Name-Not-Given now! And now she’s panicking, clutching the ankh so hard that it’s making an imprint on her hand! She begins mumbling fevered apologies to the ghosts of science fiction comedy authors.
>Kitty: See who's banging, it could be the person with the overdue book! After all, the banging started just a few seconds before the beeping, so you GUESS you shouldn't be TOO rough on them.
Kitty hugs herself, breathing out and then in gently, trying to stabilize herself. Yeah, it’s probably just the person with the overdue book. Yeah.
>clearly this late book person is frantically trying to return the book NOW before DOOM decends upon them.
Loudly load the shotgun, then open the door.
Kitty deliberately dumps out all of the shells in the family shotgun before slowly and clumsily reloading the shotgun as loud as she possibly can, followed by pumping it. Twice. And again for good measure.
The banging continues. Kitty puts the necklace around her neck, picks up the shotgun, and shuffles to the door. She unlocks it and opens it a short distance, holding the shotgun behind the door.
A skinny, tall, panic stricken young man with what Kitty would describe in her social awkwardness as “reddish-brown? Kinda? I think he was partly Arabic” stands there, one hand holding him up against the other door. He smiles with relief through a presently unkempt short black beard. “Oh, thank god,” says the man. “There’s no time to explai-”
“Dante Ilucis?” asks Kitty, suddenly.
The man’s eyes lit up with recognition. “...How did you...Yes, I’m being pursued by one o-”
“Return the book please.”
The man blinks, staring.
“What?”
“Return the book, Dante.”
“I’m not Dante Ilucis!”
“You just said you were.”
“What? No! I thought you...Look, I need to come in!”
“Are you returning Dante’s book?”
“I’m not! I don’t have a book! I’m not friends with the Ilucis family! That’s the problem!”
“The Library opens in about nine minutes. Good day.”
Kitty slams the door shut and walks off.
The man bangs the door again. Though now he appears to be punching it.
Kitty opens it again, rolling her eyes.
“You’ve gotta let me in! I’m being-”
“I will. In about nine minutes. More like eight, now.”
“You don’t understand!”
“You don’t understand. Library’s not open yet.”
“I won’t be alive in eight minutes!”
“Sir, I don’t have time for this.”
“You have eight minutes!”
“I might need to use the bathroom.”
“You can let me in before then!”
“Nope.”
“MADAME!” shouts the man, waving his arms exaggeratedly. “I AM PRESENTLY BEING CHASED BY A HUGE FUCKING ROBOT! I WOULD GREATLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU WOULD LET ME IN!”
3 comments:
How is a "fucking" robot different from a regular robot?
>Kitty: Let the man in. Then handcuff him to a shelf or something. Can't have him trying to steal books.
>Kitty: Let the man in. Then handcuff him to a shelf or something. Can't have him trying to steal books.
^ Seconding.
Let him in, then let the robot in and see if they can't talk this thing out like nice, civilized folk. If they can't then use shotgun diplomacy.
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