Bellow, as Howard thought of himself, swung the precious copy of Joyce’s Ulysses through the air at the troubled teen, more like the unwitting pawn, from the Kitteh Armai.

As if time turned into treacle, Agent Bellow watched the book describe a smooth arc. Midway through, his grip slipped slightly and the book cover fluttered open. The teen, unconsciously raised the stamper to protect herself.

Kathunk! The book landed. Horrified, Agent Bellow quickly looked down at the book. The due date, freshly stamped, was two weeks ago! He was holding an overdue book in his hands and it was… his… fault! With a fury born of despair he prepared to perform the unthinkable act: he opened Joyce’s Ulysses and took a deep breath.

“Certainly,” intoned Agent Bellow with voice of dread, “Ned Lambert said. Bring the camera whenever you like. I’ll get these bags cleared away from the windows. You can take it from here or from here.”

The terrified teen stared at Agent Bellow with round eyes, too stunned to object.