There once lived a snail named Rolo. This snail loved reading so much that he’d taught himself to turn the pages using just his antennae. (His hands were quite viscous, and no one likes a messy book). Rolo’s parents encouraged him to read and learn and grow, and before he knew it, the ambitious snail landed a job at the local Midtown Mollusk Library. Clad in a different-colored vest for each day of the week, he helped eager readers fuel their imaginations well into adulthood. Nothing filled Rolo’s heart quite so close to bursting.
Rolo held onto books for as long as he could. Known and admired by his coworkers for being frugal, he kept just enough materials on hand to protect Mollusk Library’s most-loved treasures. In fact, he found something almost beautiful about the sight of a well-worn book.
One Sunday morning, Rolo was eating lunch on the patio, engrossed in a cozy mystery about a warlock barista and a flirtatious flamingo, when a great wail pierced the air. Rolo quickly snapped his book shut (well, as quickly as a snail can do anything, really) and hurried toward the source of the anguished sound. There, kneeling in the grass at the edge of a pond, was a young snail with tears in their eyes.
“What’s the matter? Are you alright?” Rolo asked.
The small snail sniffed and pointed at the ground. “My book is ruined.”
He gazed at the dark brown book lying facedown, open, on the ground. Its dark brown cover was chipped. Fibers stuck out of its cracked spine. This tome had clearly seen better days. Rolo felt a sharp pain in his heart, followed by a warm rush of resolve.
“My grandma picked it out just for me,” the small snail said. “It’s due back this Wednesday. But I’m afraid it will fall apart if I pick it up again.” The snail raised its sad eyes to Rolo. “Can you help me?”
“Follow me,” Rolo said. “We’ll get your book fixed lickety-split.”
Rolo gently plucked the book from the grass and raced toward Midtown Mollusk Library (the myth that all snails move slowly does not apply to bipedal snails capable of holding down library jobs). The little snail followed closely behind, feet patting the ground as the midday sun graced them with a splash of summer warmth.
Luckily, a quick look at Rolo’s phone told him the library would be open for another half hour. He threw the door open and held it for the young snail. “I’m Josh,” the snail said, followed by, “Thank you.”
“Let’s get this book patched up and get you back to reading,” Rolo said with a smile. He led Josh up the stairs and past the audiobooks. The book-repair station slept under bright fluorescents in the back corner. No one was operating the station this late in the day, so Rolo clapped his hands together and got to work.
“What are you doing? Can I help?” Randy asked, standing on tiptoe across from Rolo and the desk.
Rolo tugged out drawer after drawer. Panic bubbled up within him. Burnishing tools, burnishing tools, he thought as he rifled through the supplies … but where was the book tape? His eyes, at last, spied a roll that had seen better days.
“Here’s hoping there’s enough left,” he said to himself.
Josh paced back and forth. A sweat had broken out across his brow. “Can you save it? Was I too late?”
“Too late?” Rolo deftly tore off a piece of book repair tape and got to work. “This wasn’t your fault. Sometimes books get old.” A thrill shot through him as he covered the frayed strands and began the healing process. “In fact, it’s a good sign this book looks like this.”
“It is? But how?”
Rolo smiled up at the young reader. “It means this book has been read many times. It’s well-loved.”
Josh’s expression finally softened and he stopped pacing. “So I didn’t break it?”
“Of course not.” Rolo felt a quick stab of panic as he neared the end of the tape roll. He exhaled when he realized there was just enough to finish the job. He nodded, picked up the book, and handed it back to Josh.
“Good as new?” the little snail asked.
“Good as new,” Rolo smiled.
“Thanks! I promise I’ll return it on time!” And with that, Josh jogged out the door, humming as he went.
Rolo took a deep breath and exhaled. Another job well done. But that was a close call, he thought. For years, his thriftiness had been praised. He’d taken such pride in always having just enough library supplies on hand. Now, looking at the empty roll of book repair tape—and the equally empty supply drawer he’d plucked it from—he realized the error of his ways.
Perhaps it's best to always have a little extra, just in case.
From that day forward, no one who visited or worked at Midtown Mollusk Library had to worry about running out of book tape, laminate, labels, or book jacket covers. Not while Rolo was on duty.
This modern fable reinforces the importance of protecting your library collection and keeping repair supplies properly stocked. We can help!
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