Day One-Thirty-Four: Dropping rates of literacy

HOW COULD IT GET WORSE THAN YESTERDAY

HOW, GODS, HOW

Okay. So. Lemme lay it down for you, diary, since I've been damn careful not to take you anywhere near the library. Gods only knows where that lunatic would put you. Probably brand you with a number and shove you in an obscure corner, far, far away from anywhere I'd EVER think to look.

When I came into the library today, Robert smiled at me. Tiny smile, barely restraining his fury. His eyebrow twitched about a dozen times while he spoke, so I knew he was still pissed.

"Dragomir, I have decided that your… unique… talents… lie elsewhere. You were not meant to deliver books. Or sort books. Or… perhaps… touch books. And that is alright! Not everyone is blessed with my unlaboured appreciation of fine literature. And so, I believe this is your ideal task for the day."

And he handed me a duster.

I'll admit, I'm not much of a reader. I read you, diary, but I don't often bother with other books. I prefer to write. Then, when I'm done writing my own books, I'll read 'em. Other stuff? Meh. But to hint that I don't APPRECIATE books? That I'm no better than anyone else in this blasted castle who takes books for granted?

Two words that I overheard while delivering books yesterday: PISH and POSH. BOTH OF 'EM, ROBERT. THAT'S RIGHT, I HAD TIME TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THEY MEAN.

But, whatever, I figured. This will give me a chance to avoid yelling and beating. I do this, I'll be fine. Perfect opportunity: dust the library all day, and slack in the process.

But that didn't work either.

Did for about an hour, I'll admit. It's not too hard to make a swishing motion with a duster, and even though I've never really done it before, I managed. Anybody could manage.

Until I knocked a book off a shelf.

Robert wasn't even in sight. He was somewhere on the other side of the bloody library. Before the book even hit the floor, though, he screamed 'PICK IT UP' at me. How does he know? Is he one with the freaking room?!

I did. I put the book back where it belonged, and Robert didn't yell again. But after that I was nervous, 'cause it felt like his eyes were always on me, so I started to mess up. Dropped three more books in five minutes with my clumsy duster, and he knew about it each time.

And I guess third time's the charm, 'cause after the last one he came charging across the library at me, that bamboo pole in his hand, little flecks of snot flying out of his nose. He looked like that freaking bull that ripped my dad's arm off, diary, I kid you not! And I got so flabbergasted and confused by the sight of a little old man about to beat the life out of me that I wheeled around…

… and, uhhhhhhhh… miiiiighta knocked one of the bookcases over. Don't judge me, I was scared! You know my bladder by now!

Books went flying, scrolls crunched under the weight of the falling shelf, and Robert, Robert, he… he was a demon… his face went white as he watched the furniture fall, and when it hit the ground his eyes went bloodshot red… told me, between frantic beatings with the cane, that I was NEVER to come back to the library AGAIN, that I was FIRED, FIRED, FIRED, and for the sake of the world, I was never to procreate.

When I pointed out that my daughter was lord knight of the realm, he threatened to shove his pole up my bum. So I left.

I guess I'm done in the library, diary. It's not even Friday.

Am I really banned? I hope not.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Catastrophe