One minute I was running down an eternally long high school hallway chasing a clown made of pudding filled balloons, sidewinder missiles and cotton candy and suddenly the scene changed and I was laying in a familiar place. The bottom of the stairs. But unlike all the other times, I wasn't alone, or even tangled in mutant cat. There was an amazingly fantastical warmth on my arm, and my fingers were responding in a giddy tingle as all the blood to them was choked out. I lay there thinking about how lucky I was to be laying with the girl of my dreams even though we hadn't gone on an official date. Without making any sudden movements that would cause her to wake up, or use mace on me, I slowly leaned over and smelled her luxurious... bristly hair and her studded leather collar. Wha?! My eyes did a jump cut to the slavering beast staring at me with the blind munchies.
I sprang up and backwards and jerked my arm from under the slobber and tooth factory hoping he didn't decide to keep it. He eyed me, found me wanting, and went back to chewing on what was left of my genuine cow hide recliner. I backed away wondering where the dogs erstwhile owner had gone, when I heard a knock on the door. Figuring she must have gone searching for her keys, I went to the door and flung it up saying, "There you are!" But she wasn't. It was two decidedly nerdy looking guys.
"There who is?" asked the one with the fanny pack.
"Not you... Who are you?"
"Las Vegas Public Library."
"We're FROM the library"
"Haven't seen that section, is it next to the periodicals?"
"OK, you're from the library. What do you want?"
"Love" "A Date", they blurted out.
Fanny Pack took over, "We want that book back."
"I don't have it."
"We have ways."
"We have ways."
"Are you trying to threaten me?"
"People aren't returning their materials to the library. You leave us with no choice, we will have to force you to return what you borrowed."
"So you are the library muscle? You're going to intimidate people into returning stuff, huh? Not intimidated. Go away."
"Mr Mann, don't make us get ugly"
"What are you going to do? Say 'Ni' to me?"
"Who told you that?"
"That was really your plan?"
"Not all of it."
Pocket Protector, hobbled over and said, "Ni!"
"No, no, stop. He already knows about that. Let's go to plan B."
"Is that the one with the nun chucks? Because I left mine at home. Mom said I couldn't have them back until I pay for the china hutch."
"No, it's the one where we do the math thing."
They both scrunched up their faces and started reciting numbers in a cadence normally reserved for magic spells.
"3, point, 1, 4, 1, 5, 9, 2, 6..."
"Are you reciting pi? 'cause that isn't really a math thing. More memorization than anything."
"We're going to recite pi, until your head can't handle the immensity of that mystical number, and your head implodes. Or you can give us the book back?"
"I don't have it, you dorks."
"We aren't dorks, we're nerds. We took a quiz and everything."
"3, point, 1, 4, 1, 5, 9..."
"I'm going to punch you in the pi-hole if you don't get off my porch."
Fanny Pack recoiled and reached into his fanny pack, "Don't touch me, I know how to use this!"
and pulled out a phaser.
"Is that a phaser from Star Trek?"
"It is not."
"It is. And I got it set on kill."
"I am going set my fists on goo-ify, if you don't get out of here."
I moved out onto the porch to shoo them away and Pocket Protector glanced past me. His face went copy paper white. He started backing down the stairs muttering to Fanny Pack, "Erethay isay a-ay edday irlgay onay ishay ouchcay."
Fanny Pack looked at Pocket Protector in confusion, his phaser limp at his side. "What? I mean ahtway?"
Pocket Protector pointed, screamed "He murdered that girl", and then did his best Steven Seagal impression. Not the fighting one, but the running like a super effeminate track star one.
Fanny Pack, meekly looked around me at the living room couch, blanched, got a little wobbly, decided he could pass out after he had put some distance between us and took off.
I watched the Library Enforcers bravely run away and then turned to see what had spooked them. Laying on the couch under a sheet that was white in a previous incarnation, was Laura. Partially dried blood covering her face and a good part of the sheet. Wow. She does look dead. I hope she isn't dead. That would really be an awkward Facebook status update. I cautiously walked toward her, making sure Conan was still across the room dining on my Lazyboy. "Laura?"
Remembering how my last couple of meetings with Laura had gone I picked up a dessicated cushion Conan had yet to ingest and held it in front of my face. No more head trauma, I'm gonna need to think someday.
"Laura? Are you OK? Are you alive? Do you need some CPR?"
I inched forward, wary of things flying towards my face. Bill the Cat chose that exact moment to make his reappearance, rocketing from under the couch Laura was on and rushing headlong into my groinal area. The air left my lungs and I dropped to my knees in pain. Laura's foot found the opening, it had obviously been waiting for and, swept passed the lowered pillow to connect with my ear with a loud Batmanish THWACK. Or that's what I assumed it sounded like. But I wouldn't know, because once again I folded up and took a little break from waking life.
HILL BLOCKS VIEW IS DEAD.
...long live, Hill Blocks View. I miss writing. But the thought of one more round of "welcome backs", or obsessing over stats, or thinking of the clever response to a comment, or the obligation to read everyone else's blog... not so much. So I'll try and write. No pressure. If you feel the need to respond, you can email me. I like email. firstname.lastname@example.org