She started it. I just want to put that out there. She started it.

Now I, on the other hand, was merely trying to further my education by visiting the public library. (Ponyboy had bet me two six packs that I couldn't spend half an hour in there with all those joy-killing, soul-stealing, brainwashing books.)

So naturally, when I saw a slightly opened door, I had to investigate!

I pushed open the door, and what did I see but the world's hottest broad (fine, second hottest because Sylvia would kill me if I didn't put her first) bending over a very large counter.

I walked in, and the door closed behind me. The room had a weird air flow, I swear! And me being the fine young gentleman that I am, I decided to help her.

"Ma'am?" I asked. "Can I help you?"

"Oh!" She gasped, standing up straight. "I ah...I just dropped my glasses behind the counter."

"What's the counter for?" I frowned, puzzled.

"It's where we usually keep the typewriter, but we had to send it out to be repaired. I was just looking behind the counter to see if I could find the 'f' key. It's missing." She explained, leaning forward and squinting.

"Um, did you find it?" I leaned away, looking towards the door.

"No, but I dropped my glasses." She complained, blinking rapidly and squinting again.

"Ohhh, so your glasses are stuck behind the counter." I said wisely, nodding in understandability.

"Hey, maybe you can reach them!" She suggested happily. "Come over here, and try to grab them." She turned around to show me where they were behind the counter, and somehow slipped, hitting the wall. A shelf came loose, and almost crashed down onto her. I bounded across the room, and caught it just before it hit her.

"Wait!" She shouted. "I think I can do it!"

"I don't know how long I can keep this up." I warned, holding up the heavy shelf.

"Just try! I'm getting close!"

"I will." I grunted, my arms protesting under the weight of a shelf full of books.

"Just a little bit longer—I'm so close!" She cried.

"Come on baby, you can do it!" I encouraged, before slipping slightly under the weight, and pushing her forward a bit.

"Oh yes, do that again! Do it harder!"

"I don't know how much longer I can last, baby doll." I groaned—what were these books made of? Iron?!

"Almost there...ahhh...AHA!" She shouted in triumph. I threw off the shelf into the corner with a moan of relief.

"What is going on in—" A very old librarian lady opened the door, and stared at us in shock.

She was bending over the desk, face flushed, hair mussed, grinning happily. I was standing directly behind her, panting slightly from exertion, and smirking triumphantly.

Behind the old librarian, about twenty small children stared in at us with wide, innocent eyes.

Without a word, she closed the door.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?"