Month: March 2020

LIBRARY PESTS

From Spilled Ink, May 23rd, 1936

The first hint you have of her presence as you industriously look up material for your term paper, is an inane giggle, quickly smothered, followed by a swift series of semi-squelched snickers. This is ruthlessly repeated. You look up angrily and glare at her – a young person industriously – too industriously – perusing a page of the large Webster’s dictionary. She, of course, doesn’t venture to look up, and your justified glare is pitifully wasted. You go on with your interrupted work.
As soon as she thinks her untimely eruption is forgotten, you hear a cautious “Ssssss-.” Evidently the bit of information which caused the outburst is too choice not to be shared. Nothing happens, however. A louder “Ssssss-” in a suppressed stage whisper is heard. All your glaring is of no avail; she will not deign to look in your direction. Then you sigh with relief. She is leaving. You settle down to work.
But, alas, she returns; and oh, agony, she is followed by three friends. Three of them! They approach the dictionary. Our first acquaintance, giggling reminiscently, points to a certain spot on the fateful page, and watches the faces of her friends expectantly. She is rewarded. Gales of girlish laughter peal gently forth and permeate the room. The unappreciative stare of the librarian reaches its goal, and guilty silence results. Your stare still goes unnoticed – you’ll have to practice withering looks. At any rate silence finally prevails. Three cheers for the librarian!
But don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched. Quiet giggles are slyly resumed. You look hopefully at the librarian; she is busy, oblivious.
Way down deep inside you begin hypocritically to wonder what the cause of all the merriment can be. Craning your neck, you make a mental note of the page at which the dictionary is open, secretly resolving to peruse the page when the pests have departed. But they do not depart. Gusty giggles continue to gush forth from the interested reader of the dictionary.
You groan, slam your book, quickly glare defiantly around at anyone who might object to your slamming it, and stamp out of the room – no term paper done, time wasted, and still ignorant of the laughter-provoking word.

-Dorothy Foulds, Page Editor for the Spilled Ink, class of 1936.

 

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We will never know if Dorothy learned of the offending word.

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The Spilled Ink Board industriously working on their term papers, perhaps?