Alex considered the local public library his sanctuary, his second home. A lanky young man with a slight build, soft features, and a preference for delicate blouses and oversized glasses, he was a fixture among the dusty stacks. He was also, tragically, a bibliophile with no sense of responsibility. His due dates were less like deadlines and more like gentle suggestions, resulting in a stack of accrued fines so high it could fund a small country's coffee budget.
Finally, Head Librarian Ms. Albright had presented him with an ultimatum: pay the exorbitant sum, or become the Library Pie Maid for one afternoon.
And that is how Alex, adjusting the crisp white lace of a classic French maid uniform--complete with a tiny apron, white stockings, and a pair of black, ankle-strapped heels that made him wobble delightfully--found himself standing by a stainless steel cart marked, in Ms. Albright's precise script, "LATE RETURNER: ACCEPT YOUR PIES!"
The library's normally quiet afternoon hum was replaced by a nervous energy. All four of the library's female staff members--Ms. Albright, the stern but fair department head; Brenda, the perpetually cheerful children's section specialist; Carol, the quiet archivist; and Donna, the muscular history curator--were lined up.
Ms. Albright, always one for ceremony, went first. She smiled, a truly genuine, if slightly wicked, smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. She picked up the first pie, a massive creation piled high with whipped cream.
"Now, Alex," she said, her voice carrying lightly through the Biography section. "What is the key takeaway from this experience?"
Alex gulped, the creamy scent already making his stomach churn. "To... to enjoy reading?"
Ms. Albright chuckled, a dry, academic sound. "No, dear boy. It's to remember to return your overdue books!"
Smush!
The whipped cream hit him deep, the cold pressure sending a shock across his face. The aluminum pie pan clattered slightly as she held it firmly against his glasses, completely obscuring his vision. Cream dripped down his chin, plastered his hair, and cascaded down the ruffled collar of his uniform, already staining the white stockings.
Next was Brenda. She approached with a conspiratorial giggle, her movements quick and efficient.
"Oh, Alex, you know I love seeing you here, but those children need Where the Wild Things Are back! What do we say to due dates?" she asked, already winding up.
Alex coughed, spitting a mouthful of cream. "They're... important?"
"They are sacred, sweetie! Remember to return your overdue books!"
Splat! This one was harder, the whole pie structure collapsing around the edges of the first, the scent of cinnamon hitting his nostrils.
Carol, the archivist, was next. She was famously silent, but her action spoke volumes. She simply walked up, offered a nod of grim determination, and didn't bother with the question. As she pressed the pie into his face--slowly, almost analytically--she leaned close to his ear, ensuring her whisper was heard through the thick layer of dairy.
"The integrity of the Dewey Decimal System depends on timely returns, Alex. Remember to return your overdue books."
The mess was magnificent. He could barely stand straight, the high heels digging into the floor as he fought for balance. Cream was now soaking into his skirt, dripping off his knees, and pooling around the dainty straps of his black shoes.
Finally, Donna, the history curator. She was the most imposing of the group, and she didn't just hold the pie, she gripped it like a discus.
"You had The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire out for seven extra weeks, Alex," she stated, her tone heavy with disappointment. "What did we learn about deadlines in history?"
Alex's voice was muffled. "That empires... crumble?"
"Exactly! And so does our budget when we can't loan out our resources! Don't forget, Alex: Remember to return your overdue books!"
WHUMP! The last pie was the largest and the deepest, smushed with focused strength that momentarily pushed Alex back a step. The pan stuck firmly to the creamy mask covering his face.
The librarians stood back, all four of them looking satisfied and slightly pink-cheeked. The air smelled of sugar and retribution. Alex, the former bibliophile, now stood as the Library Pie Maid: a wobbly, cream-covered monument to the perils of tardiness. He knew, with sticky certainty, that he'd be scrubbing pie filling out of the fine lace of his uniform for days, but perhaps, just perhaps, the message had finally sunk in.