By Hook Or By Crook
A clock ticks. Seconds pass. There is mildew on the window. A whole room-full of people wearing gigantic mechanical contraptions on their heads stare intently at the leather briefcase at the front of the room. What could TAR BABY be? Is it a bomb? A jack-in-the-box? Elvis' gold jumpsuit? the Ebola virus? Marsellus Wallace's soul?
Finnegan Roquefort, CIA director of European Operations and the human embodiment of Gluttony is beaming with pride. 'Looks just like it don't she?'
'Looks just like what?' I blurt. Eyes turn to face me. Chills. I feel like I'm getting filleted by the sharp looks of the secret agents.
'Like the Liberry son,' Roquefort says with restrained fury, 'like the goddamn Liberry.'
So this is what the infamous Lost Library is supposed to look like. Not a vast subterranean hall filled from top to bottom with mouldy books but something the size that can be carried by monkey butlers. It's so small. How could the sum knowledge of human existance be contained in an attache case?
'The real thing is headin' into town as we speak,' continues Roquefort,' and Grimshawe is going to try to buy it from the seller. An ex-Librarian who wants his thirty pieces. Lucky for us this Librarian decided to shop around for the best offer. He got in contact with our friends in Eng-a-land-' he nods at the representative of MI-6, Peregrine Maltravers, who raises a martini glass,'-who decided to share info with our good selves.'
Roquefort takes a sip of rum, grimaces, continues. 'Here's the deal. 3:45 Librarian comes into town via train. Met there by some Kraut spoonbenders who'll make sure he has the goods. From there (4:00) Librarian will take a "random" taxi driven by Mr. Maltravers to head to the meet with the Alchemist. They'll probably have a Jerry psychic or two in the cab but that's OK. We'll drive 'em to someplace secluded and kill 'em. Thanks to these friggin' heavy headgear we have on they won't see it comin'. Librarian gets off. Adios Librarian. He'll be replaced by cannon fodder boy-'
'The names Heazlewood.' I growl.
'-who is impervious to mental attacks due to some birth defect. The meet is going to be at a small cemetery which is perfect for us since we can see the bastard coming from every direction. Snipers will wait for the sucker to appear. He'll probably have a few spoonbenders as bodyguards but big whoop. If he don't cotton on that we've swapped his Liberry with TAR BABY we'll let TAR BABY do it's...thing. If he does tweak that something is wack we shoot the fuckers then and there. Kill 'em all let God sort 'em out. Party back here at 5.'
Sounds pretty simple.
Bloatus Maximus,
Fatman
Finnegan Roquefort, CIA director of European Operations and the human embodiment of Gluttony is beaming with pride. 'Looks just like it don't she?'
'Looks just like what?' I blurt. Eyes turn to face me. Chills. I feel like I'm getting filleted by the sharp looks of the secret agents.
'Like the Liberry son,' Roquefort says with restrained fury, 'like the goddamn Liberry.'
So this is what the infamous Lost Library is supposed to look like. Not a vast subterranean hall filled from top to bottom with mouldy books but something the size that can be carried by monkey butlers. It's so small. How could the sum knowledge of human existance be contained in an attache case?
'The real thing is headin' into town as we speak,' continues Roquefort,' and Grimshawe is going to try to buy it from the seller. An ex-Librarian who wants his thirty pieces. Lucky for us this Librarian decided to shop around for the best offer. He got in contact with our friends in Eng-a-land-' he nods at the representative of MI-6, Peregrine Maltravers, who raises a martini glass,'-who decided to share info with our good selves.'
Roquefort takes a sip of rum, grimaces, continues. 'Here's the deal. 3:45 Librarian comes into town via train. Met there by some Kraut spoonbenders who'll make sure he has the goods. From there (4:00) Librarian will take a "random" taxi driven by Mr. Maltravers to head to the meet with the Alchemist. They'll probably have a Jerry psychic or two in the cab but that's OK. We'll drive 'em to someplace secluded and kill 'em. Thanks to these friggin' heavy headgear we have on they won't see it comin'. Librarian gets off. Adios Librarian. He'll be replaced by cannon fodder boy-'
'The names Heazlewood.' I growl.
'-who is impervious to mental attacks due to some birth defect. The meet is going to be at a small cemetery which is perfect for us since we can see the bastard coming from every direction. Snipers will wait for the sucker to appear. He'll probably have a few spoonbenders as bodyguards but big whoop. If he don't cotton on that we've swapped his Liberry with TAR BABY we'll let TAR BABY do it's...thing. If he does tweak that something is wack we shoot the fuckers then and there. Kill 'em all let God sort 'em out. Party back here at 5.'
Sounds pretty simple.
Bloatus Maximus,
Fatman
posted by Fatman | 10:42 am
4 Comments:
A librarian. Isn't that a little far-fetched?
Well...a Librarian that works for the strange Dark Library. So not the mean-spirited, crow-faced woman named "Doris" who reads feminist lit and pulls a face when you make a noise at the public library (ie. by cranking up the boom box and jumping up and down). But the straaaange and mysteeeerious, monk-like individuals who gardeth the summe knowledge off humankind that shalle unlocke the FIFTH HORSEMAN sometime inne the future. Verily.
I must visit A Village in Mexico after readign this.
Send me a box of burritos.
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