Library Blunder

 I was going through my writing files on my computer and stumbled upon a story I haven’t thought about in a long time. I haven’t posted anything in too long, so why not something amusing?

I’m part of a writers group, even though, since I moved away, I’m no longer able to meet with them once a month. These days, due to COVID we share and critique each other’s pieces via email. That works well, too, and I am able to take part. In any case, we sometimes do fun writing exercises. One day one of the members brought a list of titles; we were to choose one and write a story for it. I chose ‘When Pigs Fly’ and penned the following true story for it, which still makes me smile –even more so today than when it happened.

When Pigs Fly

I wanted to run as fast as my legs could carry me, away, far, far away from this embarrassing moment. As I’d done a hundred times before, I stood in line at the library waiting for someone to help me. Finally the friendly librarian greeted me with, “How may I help you?” I told her I’m here to pick up a book I had on reserve.

“What’s the title?” she asked.

I’m not sure what was going on in my brain while I waited. Perhaps I was thinking of feeding pigs, wondering if I could find joy with such a stinky job. Some people seem to like it. No, I couldn’t be happy with work that comes with a nose-burning stench. Or maybe I was thinking about some real live pig man. In any case, my answer to the librarian’s question was: “The Pigman.”

“The Pigman?” the librarian asked with a funny look. By now my blunder had caused my eyes to go wide, my cheeks suddenly had too much rouge and I wanted to melt into the floor. This was not the book I had on reserve, I’ve never even thought about reading it and don't really know what it's about. I have no idea how that title even came to mind, or how I couldn’t stop it before saying it out loud. I laughed, as much to hide my embarrassment as how hilarious it was. I mumbled the title that couldn’t beat The Pigman out of my mouth before, and sheepishly tucked my book under my arm and left.

In hind sight, I wonder why I was so embarrassed. It wouldn’t be so strange for me to sign out that book. It’s a grade seven novel after all, and I did work at a school at the time. I’m pretty sure, though, I wasn’t daydreaming about some handsome pig man. Or was I?

 

Today, quite a few years later, I’m married to someone who used to manage a pig operation. 

Sometimes pigs fly.