Jane Austen Works at a Public Library

Dear Friends,

Tonight, I find it most agreeable to share with you one of a most favorite of library stories, one that has been shared, and reshared upon many-a request, with friends who adore this tale above all others. This story has been long burning in my chest to be told in a more global fashion; I write it here for you now, as it should be saved for all posterity.

Sometime in the spring of 2017, I found myself the computer lab assistant every Friday afternoon in the downtown branch of our local library. Perhaps if you have been most fortunate to spend an amiable afternoon taking a stroll about the weathered sidewalks of that great historical city, with its whimsical shops and excellent eateries, you are acquainted with this location. By this time, I had established myself as a strict but kind library assistant--though I must confess, after a very severe time of testing a few years earlier, where I oft swore that I would never again return to that place of mischievousness--I found it a quiet way to make a living in this world, and I very rarely had trouble with patrons who were apt to seek after it.

You might be surprised then, my dear readers, on this rainy spring Friday, that I found the whole branch in quite the uproar on my arrival to my weekly employment. Upon my entering the building, several of my comrades ran to me to share the news of a most terrible stink which had infested the building. Presently, there was no stink at all; quite unforeseeable to all including myself, no bad smells could be detected by my own nostrils.

The security guard who I shall call “Tanya,” for sake of anonymity here and forthwith the rest of this narrative, was particularly taken with this turn of events. With many years of service with the local Sheriff’s Office, I would find her most qualified in all sorts of distress; I oft suppose her to be the most excellent of defenders in case of a bar fight, not that a lady of my good breeding is in need of a bar fight companion. This besides, in tones most conspiratory, she took me aside and told me of all the morning’s activities with no detail sparing. Someone, or something--while I hesitate to give you such untoward details, I feel for reasons of preserving this tale, that it must be stated precisely as Tanya professed to me--smelled of a “mix of vomit, human excrement, animal excrement, and rotting flesh.” In all of Tanya’s investigations, she mapped the journey of the smelly individual, throughout the whole of that building.

I daresay reports were related to me of guests and staff of all natures and backgrounds retching on entrance to the elevator. Even the custodian was called upon to diffuse the foul odor. While he gave a valiant effort, the unpleasantness faintly continued for the duration of that day.

I must congratulate myself here on my desire to avoid elevators entirely and how that greatly contributes to my happiness even in these small things.

Having not experienced these smells for myself, I found the investigations of Tanya and the declarations of my friends utterly ridiculous. How quick I was to judge them as overreacting! And how quick I was to be proven wrong on that account!

Not an hour later, I was having a most affable conversation with a fellow staff member in the foyer, quite close to the computer lab door so as to assist any patrons who were in need of technological advisement or otherwise. A patron approached inquiring after usage of a computer, when the most awful and grotesque of smells washed over me. On looking out upon the foyer, one could see the wave of the infected air, invisible it may be but not its effects, as it would assault the innocent library users quietly minding to their affairs, their countenances contorting rapidly in detest and repulsion as the stench reached their very noses.

Our merry band dispersed, my friend running one way, the patron and I taking shelter inside the computer lab, which in my amazement, had more fragrancy than the rest of that whole place. (If you are familiar at all with my place of former employment, you will undoubtedly note the feat indeed that a lack of unpleasant smells is of that place!)

Other patrons who were in the use of computers but taking a break to socialize in the foyer, quickly followed our example, running into the lab for refuge from the smell. On assigning this same patron a computer for his necessary work, he cried out, most frantic to avoid the Great Stink “Do not sit me by the doorway!” How could I not take pity on him? How could I in good conscience deny such an earnest request?

Here at this point of my unnerving tale, I could tease you and say that the mystery remained unsolved. I could tease you, saying that Tanya remained extremely vexed, seeking out this individual in such a state of malodor. She investigated in more ways than any poorly paid part-time security staff ever could. A raise and commendations were certainly due to her for her effort. She concluded that with such lack of evidence, that it must have been a ghost. She aptly nicknamed this phantom Pigpeg the Smelly Ghost and could be counted on several months later to regale any who would humor her about that infamous trickster who stunk up all of our quaint branch.

But perhaps Pigpen revealed himself to me several months later. Perhaps I should tell you that one needs only google “Liquid Ass” and all shall be explained. I am not one to betray confidences of friends, ghost or otherwise, so I shall never say whether this be fact or speculation.

But I shall tell you that Pigpen the Smelly Ghost lives on with future trickery in store. Whether he be flesh or whether he be spirit, my dear friends, that is for you to sort out for yourselves, for I cannot make it out. If even this very day, you visit that establishment, and should you take a turn about its insides, you may very well catch a whiff of PigPen, for that is his friendly way of greeting.

I shall write to you again soon, for I have many more tales (yes, even more fanciful than this) to relay for your utmost amusement.

Yours Affectionately,

Jane Austen