Blog 11: The Life and Afterlife of Terrance

Lilith McFarlin

Something terrible happened to me. I was jumping on the trampoline in my backyard when I got distracted by a squirrel that fell from a tree. Halfway down, it appeared to hang in the air, then I felt a pain across the entire backside of my body and hit my head. Before I lost consciousness, I realized we were both falling.

I woke up two-and-a-half months later to my daughter, Penelope, telling me I’ve been in a coma all this time, and I better wake my lazy self up. I asked her why she was being so harsh with me, and she revealed that saying, “I love you” didn’t do anything. But every time she called me a deadbeat sleepy dad, my foot wiggled. Then my whole leg, and you can guess the rest. I asked her why I’ve gained so much weight since I’ve been in a coma. Why wasn’t I skinny? Penelope said she threw my favorite quadruple cheeseburgers with extra bacon in the blender and poured that into my IV every day. Even though quadruple cheeseburgers are a sometimes food, I guess I was technically on vacation since I couldn’t work.

I asked Penelope what month it was and, thank goodness, I hadn’t missed the Black History Month display at Laman. There’s one book on MLK that has a picture of him giving a speech and, if you squint, you can see my father in the audience, eating a quadruple cheeseburger.

I think about how fun it will be until I ask Penelope if she ever turned in my library book. She said she waved it over my nose for the first few weeks of my hospital stay because the smell of Laman made my nostrils wiggle. Then she read it herself, threw it in the drawer by my bed and forgot about it. I asked her if she had lost all ninety-seven of her marbles.

I threw open the drawer, grabbed the book with its gorgeously glossy cover. Then I ripped the IV out of my arm and made a run for it. When I had made it halfway down the street, Penelope came running up behind me. She yelled, “DAD, YOU’RE IN YOUR HOSPITAL GOWN!! THEY WON’T LET YOU IN LIKE THAT!!!” I don’t know if you’ve seen someone sprint while putting on khakis, but I did it smoother and quicker than any of those fools. Penelope kept running with me. When I asked why, she said, “I gotta see this.”

I swear the automatic doors opened in slow-motion. My khakis made a dramatic swish-swish noise. I got to the front desk and asked [Name Redacted] if there was any way she could forgive me and my wretched soul. I was sure the book was marked lost, but it was here. She said, “Oh, well, it’s in good condition and you brought it back. So we’ll waive the fine. No problem, Mr. Terrance!” I have never been more relieved. “Say, I was flipping through a book on our display and I saw a picture with a guy that sort of looks like you in the background.” I felt like I had just reached the glorious afterlife since I’d spent so many weeks in the dark.

Blog 8: Dream Cop

The night of the Infamous Burrito Drop of 2019, I had me one wild and crazy dream. The burrito spillage incident left me strangely hungry for burritos. I just wanted to treat melted cheese and ground beef the right way. Everyone has their own way of processing trauma, or so says the internet. Anyway, the world spun into view like a Microsoft PowerPoint slide transition.

I was in the lovely Laman Library, which is how we all referred to it, like it was a Hollywood starlet. I looked down, and I had a badge on my chest and a billy club on my belt. When I looked closely at the badge, there was the shape of a book engraved in it. Next thing I knew, there was a kid running down the aisle at over nine miles per hour. Red and blue lights flashed out my eyeholes and I was on his tail. We zig-zagged through all the empty shelves. The non-fiction collection was being moved around and condensed so they could put the fiction downstairs.

I shouted, “Freeze, punk!” and the little scamp transformed into a book. He floated in the air for a second, then hit the ground. I put him on the shelf and walked away awkwardly. Then, I heard the thump of hip hop across the library. When I got to the back, what did I see? A man blaring Kendrick Lamar in a public space. I like Kendrick, but there’s a time and place.

I said, “I am a sinner, who’s probably gonna sin again. Lord forgive me, things I don’t understand. Sometimes I need to be alone. Bi—“

He turned into a dang book, too. It really killed my vibe. I put him on the shelf, once again hoping that no one noticed. I got curious and opened him up and heard a scream. I walked away even quicker this time. I tried to restrain myself for a little while, but I kept seeing infractions, like leaving trash on the tables and breathing too loud in the quiet zone. I got so carried away, that I decided to go undercover.

I wrapped a secret microphone in a burrito tortilla, and placed it in the bathroom. I put my ear piece in, and waited outside. I heard my arch nemesis say, “It’s about that time again.” Then I heard some chewing noises that were just plain gross, so my dream replaced them with a drum solo. After the final crash of a cymbal, there was a pause. I was afraid he’d eaten all the way down to my listening device. Then I heard him say, “Well, I’ve eaten half the burrito. Time to get some cheese across that sparkly clean floor. Oh yeah, oh yeah.” Plop.

I burst through the door and held out my library card like a gun. He turned into a whole dictionary. I left the bathroom in a hurry, not having the time to look natural. I found a free chair in the reading area, which was hard, because the giraffes were having a meeting.

Then, a librarian dressed like Billy Idol came up to me with a cart full of the books that used to be unruly patrons.  She said, “Hey, little Terrance, what have you done? Hey, little Terrance who’s the only one? Hey little Terrance, shotgun!

I felt my arm squish, morphing into the table of contents. I woke up to my daughter, Penelope, laying with her head on the pillow next to mine, her torso on top of my arm. She’d had a bad dream, too. If I learned anything from this ground beef-induced experience, it’s that I should never take matters into my own hands at the library.