The Bookwatchers

I was beginning to despair, and I mean really, really become concerned about my future in this library and on this planet and in this ever-so-complicated-and-frustrating universe when I felt a pair of small barbs sinking into the flesh of my shoulder. Didn’t hurt, but it was mighty irritating.

“Hello?” I called out.

And it was at that moment that my saviors appeared! Lothar and Rajul, the Bookwatchers, climbed up onto my shoulder, a friendly grin plastered on the face of one, an annoyed glower on the other. They were hairy. They were dressed in loincloths. They carried spears and horns. And they were approximately four inches tall.

“You stuck?” Lothar grunted.

“Yes,” I said. “Help.”

Rajul, who always smiled, even when we sold his sister to the Cincinnati Library of Biology, patted my shoulder. At least I think he did. He was so small it was hard to tell.

“We get you free, Son of Stan. Lothar, we get others.”

“Stupid Book-Keeper,” Lothar muttered. Then he blew his horn and the others came.

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