A True Story, Honest

The other day I got an email from the library telling me that I had two books that were seriously overdue and generating fines. If I did not return the books I would be remanded to a maximum security prison where the guards are hired because they score above the 98th percentile of the DeSade profile. (Many of them had been rejected by administrators Abu Grhaib because they were too violent). The notice assured me that no one had ever escaped and no one was ever released. There were no visitors except for mean little children who came to throw rotten eggs and bags of dog feces at the inmates as they whooped down the halls.

The note told me that I could avoid this hassle by simply bringing the books back and paying the fine. I decided upon this course of action and presented myself at the "Miscreant Borrower" desk at the main branch. A stern uniformed woman looked me over, as if wondering what size orange jumpsuit I would be wearing when I was convicted. "Double XXL, I should imagine."
"What?" I asked.
"Pay no mind, patron, I was just thinking out loud. Now, then. What are we trying to pull?"
"Pull?"
"Yes, PULL! Keeping these books overdue! Certainly you are aware that we have RULES..."
"Well, actually, it was an error." She rolled her eyes dramatically as if to say I've never heard this one before... "I was actually in the hospital for a few days and..."
"In the Hospital for a few days, were you?" she clarified
"Yes, Mam, and the meds they sort of got me confused about the days..."
"These books are six days overdue!" She glared at me like where the fuck have I been? Didn't I understand priorities? How can we run an efficient library if people are going to keep books out overdue?
I felt pretty bad about it all. Inconsiderate. Bad citizen.
Then her face seemed to melt into a friendly, forgiving, almost motherly smile.
"Drugs, did you say? They have you on meds?"
"Yeah, I'm in a fog half the day with this Ativan." A barely perceptible brightening of the smile. "Yah, 2mg 3 times a day - I'm like a zombie."
"Oh poor dear. Sometimes they over prescribe those tranqs. We have a program where we distribute them to needy nervous people you know." I noticed a mild tremor in her hand which she disguised by tapping her pencil on the counter.
"Ok, let's deal." I said.

I walked out of the library with a clean record and a receipt for fine paid. The librarian was probably in the back room popping at least one of the half dozen pills of Ativan. Good, she needed to chill out a bit.