The Aisle is Full of Noises

I tilted my head back to listen to the night. The children of the darkness, lowly crickets chirping and soaring bats devouring blood sucking mosquitos vibrated my ears, and somewhere far ahead, i could see the moon watching over us like a proud mother. The goddess Diana smiled and shined down upon us, reflected in the love and light of the mighty sleeping sun.

Christina swayed drunkenly and beauitfully in the moonlight. On this night, she resembled a dark, earthly goddess more so than a self-proclaimed irish princess. Despite months of working beside her, i had never particulary found her attractive. She'd bend over and sometimes i'd take a brief glance down her shirt, noting the way her b-cup tits were loosley cupped by an unnecessary bra. She always dressed sharply, and in her tight black work pants it was obvious that she rarely wore underwear, but i usually paid no attention. The way the young lady presented herself, the way she projected the presentation of herself is what really turned me off. She was the type of girl who seemed as tho she sat in her car before walking into work, windows rolled up, in complete silence, giving herself a talk of encouragement, then walk in, her seemless ass pointed in the air, barking out orders. I was far too laid back to squawk with this main hen, despite being somewhat of an alpha cock myself.

WIth shadows drapped across her round face, her eyes red and slow from rum, and her long blonde hair swaying across her body, i fell in love with her. The out of work Christina, this Casual I Know How to Have Fun Now That I'm Not Taking Care of Business Christina was like another person. Her hair, usually tucked back tightly in a bun behind her head, was dishevelled, chaotic, blowing across her face, she frequently had to brush it out of her eyes and mouth. Her shirt was slipping off her shoulders, and she had to keep pulling the straps back up before her small tits would be drunkenly exposed.

She turned to me and caught my eyes. I returned her gaze, and she smiled warmly.

This was the first time we had really seen each other, with the masks and pretentious facades of middle management simmered away by alcohol consumption. We had no employees to impress, we were free from the moral and social restraints of the office; we could talk about dope, sex, niggers, and anything that would normally get us crucified at work. A drunken thought stumbled into my mind: i wondered if everyone was capable of achieving such beauty and perfection once the bondage of the weekday work week wore off. I wondered if the woes of modern man were merely a side effect of this rush rush capitalist consumer culture, a gradual death sentence for all involved. Perhaps in the slow, mellow underbelly of life, sitting on ones back porch in the sun with a large glass of whiskey, ice, and cola in one hand, a large pipe filled with fine marijuana in another hand, and a fine paperback book spread open on ones lap, perhaps in that state of existence, was the truest form of beauty and perfection; miles and miles away from the burdens of fake customs and superstitions instilled within us by our very life styles.

Christina said something to someone and laughed. I drunkenly tuned out the conversation, but noticed the way every muscle in her face jumped and twitched when she laughed, the way her eyes reflected the lights and lives of the night when she smiled. I sat down on the cold concrete steps next to her, and she turned and smiled as she acknowledge me. I could feel the warmth eminating off her in the cold night, enhancing the environment, and i suspect she could feel mine as she leaned slightly against me, her leg resting against mine. I leaned back, my arms sprawled out, and she leaned further into me, almost to the point that i was holding her.

Somewhere in my drunken mind, memories creeped into my main theater. I could see myself many years ago, drinking myself to death in an anonymous townie bar. A tall glass of some dark ale was in front of me, my head swimming in the alcohol and noise. I was in between a girl Jamie and her friend whose name i could never remember then and long forgot now. I had been talking to Jamie's friend all night, quite sure that we were flirting, and almost certain that she dug me. In the course of our conversation i had put my arm around her, and in my chaotic drunken stupor, completely forgot that my arm was still there. Oblivious to any discomfort she might've shown, Jamie turned to me and said "Take your hand off my friend." I laughed and did so, slightly embarrassed at my actions, slightly horrified that i was powerless over myself and the situation.

Chrsistina leaned back with me, closer into my arms. I quickly scanned our companions, and decided that none would judge or demand that i remove my hands from Christina. I was in no immediate danger. Besides, i thought, Christina was her own goddamn person in her own right-- if she wanted me to back off, she wouldn't be afraid to tell me to go fuck myself, with the same tone of voice she uses to tell employees at the office to go fill the paper bay...

Christina would strain her eyes as she noticed that the paper bay was empty. Her voice clear and ringing:
"Debbie, would you fill the paper bay?"
And sweet Debbie, confused, lost, and drifting well into her late teenage years was like a yellow chick tossed to some hungry wolf. Her eyes acknowledged the situation, but her tone of voice revealed her confusion.
"The paper bay?...Ms. Doherty...I never fill the paper bay..."
Christina wouldn't miss a beat, as if she prepared for this conversation in her prework car prep talk.
"Yeah, just make sure its filled to the line then you can take your break if you want, thank you Debbie."
Already defeated, knowing that all was lost, Debbie would play her last card in hopes of preventing the hoop-la that would follow: lugging the heavy cases of paper up two flights of stars, fumbling with the box cover as it never could be opened nor closed, then the inevitable horror of realizing that the dickless piece of shit who filled the bay before you lacked the decency to properly empty it in the first place, causing at least another twenty minutes of bickering with the printer over paper jams and code 32:error 's.

It was clear to everyone, including Chritina Doherty, that Debbie wanted to take her break now, not after crusading against the paper bay.
"But Ms. Doherty...Mr. Meztner never makes fill the paper bay...he says the morning folks do it."
And that would be the last bomb in Debbie's arsenol-- ratting me out. Inevitably, all their eyes would turn to me, sweet Debbie begging me to say something to redeem her, and Christina Doherty eyeing me with pure dismay, silenting demanding that i keep my mouth shut in case i had a cocky comment to contribute or casually contradict. I would look at them both, back and forth, wipe the sweat from my upper lip, knowing full well that i had to side with fellow managament rather than a lost stoner a thousand times more interesting and whom could possibly benefit from my focused energy. Perhaps I would joke about the ridiculous conflict that had somehow exploded between the three of us, and if i was feeling especially focused and creative that day, everything i said would have sharp sexual undertones. Neither of them would acknowledge my comment either way, and i would be free to roam around once again, thinking dark thoughts and searching for a peaceful area to work in.

Surfacing back into present consciousness, i vaguely wondered what the fuck it was that i was doing here, drunk on the library steps hours after the ancient building had closed, casually associating with Ms. Doherty: a fellow manager, and a gaggle of lackeys that had taken to following and eminating me at the bar. Hours later, and it was increasingly difficult to focus, while my vision would fade out every now and then into some obscure, insightful drunken void where details seemed sharper and more important, and subleties were painfully obvious to myself, the causual observer. The drunken halo around my neck began to tighten, and i was having trouble concentrating on one thought for more than a few seconds at a time.

Someone was talking, and they all laughed. Realizing that they weren't laughing at me, i relaxed back towards the drunken undertow. Christina pulled me back tho, shining brightly as she leaned in closely whispered something into my ear. I couldn't quite catch it, but her hair whipped back against the side of my face, so i smiled at her and nodded.

Someone suggested that we head into the library. It's possible that it was me who suggested it, but i didn't really care who it was who brought it up because it was such a damn good idea. Our small group quickly agreed, and people began sitting up and shuffling around nervously trying to find a way in. I absently lit a cigarette, and roamed around the giant structure of the library itself, marvelling over its sharp right angle edges and cracked limestone exterior.

Christina had jumped up, and in my drunken insight i could actually see the glow encompassing her slender body. She had a look in her eyes that i had never seen in her before. I had seen it within others, of course, usually in the late morning hours of some emotionally or drug fueled escapade, the sun slowly rising and most of the unknown glory dying with the dark as a single individual in the group rose up to lead us towards one last thrust of greatness before the adventure was truly over and we all passed out for 12 hours. I had seen this divine insanity in the eyes of my greatest friends at the edge of a vast mirror like lake, in the eyes of my young brother in the mountains of the western eastcoast states, and in the eyes of strangers in the desert fields of tennesse. I now saw it in the eyes of the prestigious Christina Doherty.

"I know how we can get in! I used to work in this library!" Christina slurred drunkenly. Apparently we had been holding hands, and in her rush to find the entrance to our shelter she dropped my hand and ran to the far side of the library. The members of the group turned to me for verification. I shrugged and started to follow. I didn't give a shit where Christina led us; i was here to get drunk.

As we turned the corner of the great book house, we came upon Christina, half eclipsed by bushes, kneeling upon the ground. Her eyes flashed wildly as she pried at a small window and the iron grating covering it for security. I had never noticed this window before, although i had spent much of my youth in this building, wandering around vast stacks of literature that i would never be able to fully comprehend or appreciate.

"When i used to work here, i'd sometimes get to work early...I'd have to climb thru this window because all the doors were locked that early in the morning." Christina fumbled with the latch drunkenly, causing her to almost lose her balance and tip over.

"Why didnt you have a key?" A man in the group asked. He was trying to come off as sly, but it seemed as tho he were just very intoxicated.

Christina ignored the question as she dug further deeper into the small piece of steal separating us from the cavernous inards of the library.

I was about to offer some kind of assistance, but as I opened my mouth to tell her to step aside, the latch suddenly swung up, and the window flew back and open. A dark cavity in the limestone wall of the building was exposed, a gaping hole in the towering wide toothed grin of the library. Whatever waited inside for us was ours, beckoning with beautiful darkness and oppurtunity. There was room to grow within this real eastate.

Thus Spake thujonu