My Life, as a Story.

Has anyone ever read that Stephen King's novella collections? There are some scary fucking stories in there. One of them is about going through to this other dimension cus you were asleep on the plane, and you can hear this buzzing noise and it's basically these demons called Langoliers eating yesterday cus Shock! Horror! the dimension turned out to be that. (Suckers.) I can't really remember what happened but there was something about a blind child that had visions and she ended up dying cus this guy that liked to rip up napkins when he was nervous went crazy cus he really needed to be in Delaware for a promotion, but alas, he was stuck in yesterday.
Anyway! There is this other story called The Library Policeman, which involves a Library Policeman, some succubus, red licorice, drunks and airplanes. Eons ago, before I went to Melbourne, Kasia and I went to the Inglewood Library and got out some books on my card. I think I got out such great young adult reading material as multiple Sweet Valley High and Christopher Pike books (I swear to God, Christopher Pike must have been such a lonely upset virgin in High School as all the cheerleaders, popular girls and sex kittens turn out to be BLOODSUCKING CREATURES FROM HELL/OUTTA SPACE/OTHER DIMENSIONS) and Kasia got out some giant encyclopaediac books about dogs. Hahahah. I love Kasia.
During the time between me taking these books out, and yesterday, I have gone to Melbourne, packed up and moved not only mine but my stupid dumb boyfriends crap, been a real winner and just generally forgotten about going to the library and returning books until I got a few phone calls. I kept meaning to take them back, I really did, and then I got a letter in the mail saying I had $180 in overdue Library Fines and my imagination basically started running like an American Indian and I kept imagining that my picture was up next to the computer and they had fancy face recognition software like in David Jones and as soon as I took them back the doors would lock and the librarians would stop being softly spoken people who look like they should be next to Aunt in the dictionary and instead turn into people that would and could beat me up.

Yesterday these guys showed up TO MY HOUSE at 9 in the morning.



I didn't think they were real. They were in disguise by calling themselves the Mobile Collections Unit, but I knew what was up. Because I am so fucking retarded at life for some reason I lied to them and told them the books were at my parents house when if I turned my head slightly I could actually see them on the floor of my room. I donut know why I did this because now I am going to have to actually go the library and return them. If Stephen King is anything to go by then I should take a giant ball of red licorice and stuff it the cakehole of the Library Police so he reverts back to his succubus self and explodes cus he can't feed off the fear of children anymore.