Junior hated the basement. It was perfectly must and dust-free, but it was cold. He never wanted to be alone down there. He was always alone down there. Today, he was getting the little auditorium ready for a Q&A with a very special guest. He looked at his phone for the time. Where was this guy?
●
“Is he here yet?” asked Jean.
“You’re a little early,” said the librarian. “Junior is downstairs setting up, if you want to keep him company.”
“I probably should,” said Jean. “He gets scared.”
The librarian looked at her phone.
“He’s late isn’t he?” said Jean.
The librarian shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll be first in line for an autograph.”
Jean blushed. “I’ll go check on Junior. He thinks it’s haunted down there.”
“We’re about to be haunted up here, too.” The librarian nodded at the door.
Old Miss Flintlock stepped in from the wind. “What’s all this about lining up to get in? If you think I’m going to stand outside in that hell -”
“It’s ok, Miss Flintlock,” said the librarian. “You don’t have to stand in line. That’s just to see Houlihan. Anyone can come into the library.”
“Who is Houlihan?”
“Sean Houlihan,” said Jean. “He’s only the most prominent artist of the twenty-first century.”
“Well, no one’s here to see him.”
“I didn’t do a great job promoting this,” said the librarian.
Miss Flintlock gave a little laugh. “You don’t do a great job at anything.”
●
Junior emerged from the staircase.
“Hey babe,” said Jean. “How’s your ghost?”
“It’s not funny!” said Junior. “And it’s more than one ghost, I bet. I’m tired of being the basement grunt.”
“Would you rather deal with Miss Flintlock?” said the librarian.
Junior slunk behind the desk. “Any word from Houlihan?”
“No,” said the librarian. “He’s officially living up to his reputation.”
“What does he do again?”
“Really, babe,” said Jean, “you need to culture yourself.”
“You won't be drooling over this guy when you see what he looks like.”
“I'm not drooling! And yes I will!”
“You know what he looks like, Junior?” said the librarian.
“No,” said Junior, “but I bet he's a greasy old dork.”
“He's a genius!” said Jean.
“Oh, honey,” said the librarian. “Geniuses can be greasy old dorks.”
“Well,” said Junior. “Aren't we supposed to be letting everyone in?”
“Everyone is somewhere else. But you two can go wait. Front row, if you want.”
“I might throw up,” said Jean. “I'm so nervous.”
“Oh, you'll throw up alright,” said Junior.
●
“Miss Flintlock!” said the librarian. “I didn't expect to see you down here.”
Miss Flintlock peered around the auditorium. “I didn't expect to see my breath down here.”
“Right, well, if you want to give Junior your ticket, you can sit anywhere you like.”
“I don't have a ticket to see this ‘artist’!” Miss Flintlock scoffed. “I need help at the front desk.”
“You want to check something out?”
“I need a recommendation.”
“Miss Flintlock,” said the librarian, “this event is snowballing into a serious crowd very suddenly. If you'll give me five minutes.”
“Shouldn't someone be at the front desk?”
“Yes, me! In five minutes.”
“My god!” Miss Flintlock shook her head. “Well, why don't you just recommend something to me now?”
“How about Houlihan's book?” said the librarian. “He's here to promote it.”
“Is it fiction? I can’t abide anymore fiction.”
“It's his memoir. People are dying to read it because no one knows anything about him.”
“That doesn't prove it isn't fiction.”
“Do you want to read it or not? We have advanced copies.”
“Fine, I'll borrow one,” said Miss Flintlock. “But you're on thin ice.”
“No, you have to buy one.”
“But this is a library!”
●
“Sorry, everyone.” Junior addressed the crowd. “I know we've been waiting, but Mister Houlihan has assured us that he'll be here shortly.”
“Will you do something about the heat?” Miss Flintlock shouted from the back. “This is preposterous.”
“It is a touch chilly,” said Jean.
The crowd grumbled in agreement.
“I guess I'll go look at the thermostat,” said Junior. “Unless anyone else wants to go?”
“Why would we do your job for you?” said Miss Flintlock.
“He thinks there's a ghost.”
“Ghost!?” Miss Flintlock stood up. “Is this some perverted witchcraft meeting?”
“No!” said Junior. “I'll be right back.”
●
The thermostat room was, indeed, musty and dusty. And dark. And most certainly more haunted than the rest of the basement. Junior didn't know how to work the thermostat, which meant he had to spend even longer there trying to figure it out. He squinted in the darkness when he felt a presence behind him.
No. It was his mind playing with him. He wouldn't look. That's what a ghost would want him to do. Everything was fine and normal.
“Excuse me,” someone said.
Junior screamed like a newborn baby and ducked to the floor.
“Easy, buddy!” said the voice. “Sorry to sneak up on you. I'm just looking for the auditorium.”
Junior took a breath of relief and saw a greasy old dork looking down at him.