I have a black light closet off of my guest bedroom. It is spacious enough to accommodate five adults.

The next day I walked into the Devery University human resources department, and met Colletta.  I told her, “I want to be the director of your library.  I have written my resume in a way that corresponds to that job description, and you will see that I went to the highly regarded MLIS program at UIUC, at least, that is what my resume says.  If you call them, they will find in their records that I attended their program for two years in the mid aughts, and that I had a 3.9 GPA.  Likewise, I have signed letters of recommendation from instructors who no longer work there, but who are listed in their system as having been in their employ during the times I was supposed to have been there.  I know the Library of Congress and Dewey decimal classification systems and made the internet my bitch a few years ago.  To show you my dedication to cataloging, I have a black light tattoo of a MARC bibliographic record stretching the length of my torso.  I have cataloged myself.  The 100 field reads Bingamin, Ramdas.  The 650 fields are Information scientists and Chaos in systems. Your students need to learn what I know, and I won’t take no for an answer. Also, I can show you the tattoo if you ever want to see it.  I have a black light closet off of my guest bedroom. It is spacious enough to accommodate five adults.”

Her nipples tensed beneath her shirt, and she brushed the hair behind her ears.  “Well, Mr. Bingamin, I see that your materials are all in order.  I will pass these on to my supervisor.”  She smiled. “I hope you get the job.”

Two weeks later, I was sitting in my office, overseeing a staff of four assistant librarians and eight student workers when I got a call from an unknown number.

“Mr. Bingamin, this is Colletta from HR. I looked up your cell phone number in the employee files.  Please do not disclose my identity or relay the nature of this phone call to anyone.  Do you agree with those terms?”

“Of course,” I said.  “Go on.”

“Your urinalysis came back hot.  You tested positive for a number of drugs.  I hid the results in the back of the file cabinet and told my supers you passed.  If they find it I will be fired and you will be retested, so you need to get clean as soon as possible—whatever it takes—go piss in the cup again and get me the paperwork so that I can file it in place of the positives.  Capisce?”

“That’s impossible,” I say. “I have a full-proof system.”

“No system is full-proof,” she says. “Get clean and get me the results.”

“Understood,” I said and hung up.  It led to a whirlwind office fling, and we were married shortly after we were fired for having sex on the college president’s desk after hours. 

———

REVIEWS

Part action, part thriller, all comedy, The Librarian at the End of the World fires on all cylinders. Fans of Thomas Pynchon and David Foster Wallace will revel in the ridiculousness that is Miller’s America.”

A constantly surprising picaresque journey through cultural darkness”

A most unique rollicking story that careens from the almost familiar instantly into a world of what is happening here?

Not so much a novel as a perpetual- motion machine: part road-show, part parable, careening between surrealism and comedy”

Laugh out loud rambling tale of the future/present”

Prepare to be blown away”

On the cutting edge of audacious literature”

Takes madcap to a new level, blending Preston Sturges and Philip Dick”

Outrageous and thought-provoking”

Just blown away.”

Fantastic and bizarre”

Lovecraft turns Beatnik and drops acid”

One of the absolutely most freakishly odd books I have ever read”

It’s like E. L. James, Larry Flynt, and Hunter Thompson somehow merged their DNA”

Even Carrie Fisher (yes, her vagina is in here) isn’t safe from this menace!”

If you are looking for a completely unique book, this one is hot!”

Funny and intelligent”

Filled with hedonism, erotica and hilarity.”

Only for strong and fearless readers.”

Wild, trippy, fun, and sometimes profound”

I found myself engaged, disconnected and overwhelmed all at the same time”

No one would ever expect this”

Imagine a world where Thin Man was co-written by Tim Leary and Douglas Adams and set in the Office staffed by assassins”

Brilliant, raunchy, hilarious, heartfelt, and by the end, breathtaking”

 “Social satire at its best”

In the end, this romp becomes something else. It becomes a work of art, moving and funny and memorable.”

Editor’s note: Technically it is her vulva, not her vagina.

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