Note to Exit Guard at NYPL (Main Branch):
This afternoon you seemed like a kindly man. I didn’t hate you even though you were missing teeth. I thought, “Oh, how nice. If it wasn’t for this job, this pleasant old bastard would probably be shuffling behind a Dumpster somewhere, picking desiccated flesh from an old chicken bone.”
So why, when I handed you my two books, did you have to practically caress “The Dying Animal” upon seeing Amedeo Modigliani’s Reclining Nude and then, as you returned it to me, stare knowingly into my eyes and exclaim, “Ahhh, it is a beautiful book!” Was it really necessary for your chapped hand to linger on its cover? And did I really have to giggle coyly, to show that I wasn’t offended?
Thanks to you, Lech R. McLeery, I was forced to wonder, during my walk home, if you were imagining me reclining in a similar pose.
Tonight I hate you.