It was 10:30 by the time I felt sufficiently revived to venture out of the office into the streets. The first place I went was to the bank where I cashed a check for $100. From there I made my way to a barber shop where [a saint with scissors] managed to get me looking somewhat respectable.
The next stop was a Goodwill resale shop where I picked out a cliched sort of movie detective outfit: dark suit, tan overcoat, and a battered but not beaten fedora. I was hoping that Curt would get the joke. Things were going well and showed every sign of continuing that way. I returned to the office where I changed into my getup.
When I called the public library to ask for information about Ramiland, I was connected to a very friendly and helpful librarian. She sounded like she'd be a lot of fun when she wasn't being a librarian. She didn't know anything off hand about Ramiland but told me that she could locate some sources for me if I wanted to come by and pick them up. I told her that was fine. I told myself not to get too excited about the librarian. She was probably about 70-years-old and most likely had a figure like a baby elephant.
She wasn't and she didn't. At the library, we had a pretty good time talking. She thought my detective outfit was as amusing as it was supposed to be. She had been, though, only able to find articles in two magazines, which she handed over to me with a wink.
And here, dear reader, my story grinds to an expository halt never to recover, except for this brief passage:
It was around 2:00 when I finished reading. The librarian I returned the magazines to was 70-years-old and did have the figure of a baby elephant. She had a pretty voice and I was in a good mood so I flirted with her for a little bit. We didn't exchange phone numbers, though, and I didn't even get a wink.
[originally posted 6/5/2009]