The Library (And Others)

The Library

Uptight, stiff, stoic, librarian Randall Brown paced the library, organizing books, meticulously placing them in their spots. The Coal Hill library was mercifully empty, but Randall figured it was only a matter of time before the silence would be broken by the shouting of students cramming for tests, or the arguing of a couple that had just broken up or the furious pacing of writers with nothing to write. Or, heaven help him, his two friends, Mr. Malcolm Tucker and Dr. John Smith.

As if his thoughts had summoned them, the library door swung open with a creak. Randall slowly turned around. He sighed when he saw the embodiment of chaos, Malcolm and John. Randall wasn't even sure why he bothered to stay friends with them. Personality wise, the three men were insanely different, but physically the trio had extraordinary similarities and were often mistaken as triplets. All three men were tall and skinny, with gray hair and lined faces.

Malcolm dressed the most like Randall, both opting to wear fine suits, but always dull colors rather than Randall's blues and reds. Malcolm refused to wear glasses, unlike Randall. Malc also kept his hair close cropped, whilst Randall had grown his out slightly. Malc was foul-mouthed and rude, until you got to know him, then he was still foul-mouthed, but kind when he wanted to be. Randall was polite, and quiet, rarely ever raising his voice over a shout, no matter how long you had known him. Malcolm worked in the noisy government offices, and Randall preferred the quiet solitude of the library.

John was the most different of the trio, wearing a pair of black joggers, combat boots, a holey black shirt, a white undershirt, and a red jacket, looking something like a gray haired stick insect trying to be a rockstar, extremely contrary to his professional job at Coal Hill University.

"Randall!" John cried, sauntering into the library, his Glaswegian accent barely noticeable for the moment.

"Hello, John, Malcolm," Randall said tiredly, in his - as Malcolm called it - his polite English Nobleman voice. Malcolm picked a book up off the shelf, flipped through, then replaced it, crookedly. Randall hastily fixed it. "How can I help you?"

"Just came to see our favorite friend," Malc said, his accent thicker than John's.

"Well, he wants to complain about work. I came to see my favorite friend," John said, putting his arm around Randall. Randall slowly peeled John's arm off his shoulders.

"Wonderful," Randall replied, stiffly.

"Want some coffee? Or some tangerines?" Malc offered. "Brought some from home."

"No thank you, I ate lunch already," Randall replied.

"Awwww, come on, Randall, loosen up," John said, throwing his arm back around his friend. "Take a break from your library for a bit. We'll manage the place."

"I really don't think I-" Randall started.

"Take a break!" Malc argued. "I've been fired and possibly going to be arrested and we all know John doesn't have a real job so you can take a break."

"Mal-Malcolm, you were what?" Randall stuttered.

"Fired technically. Officially resigned. Was pushed out because I set up Russel Crowe aka the Minister of DoSAC for failure quicker than she would have failed herself," Malcolm said, angrily as always. Randall sighed.

"And arrested?" he asked.

"Yeah, well, might have lied to a jury. Possibly. A bit," Malcolm said, sounding ashamed for the first time. "To keep my job. But, look how that turned out."

"And you, John?" Randall asked.

"Well, first off, Malcolm, I do have a real job, thanks very much. It's Randall here who doesn't have a real job. But, otherwise, I started my guitar business. Offered to tutor Bill Potts. Remember me talking about her? Brilliant child. A lot like Susan Foreman," John said, talking quickly. "You know, my kinda granddaughter? The President's daughter?"