All of that was about to change on a sunny Sunday morning. Some of the guys were having church, others were sleeping in, and Carl was reading the morning paper while he ate his fruit loops. “There’s an arsonist burning down libraries across the county. The police don’t have any leads.”

“Carl, we only want to hear share-worthy news; like if a strip club is closing or the Yankees win!”

“Aye Aye, Captain.”

Suddenly, the siren wailed. “Lexington Library is on fire. We’ve been called. Suit up and bring your A game!”

Riding a truck to a fire is a lot like driving a stagecoach towards some faceless monster. There were flames shooting out of the fifth and sixth story windows and pages of wisdom were fluttering to the pavement like half-eaten sandwiches consumed by a foolish beast.

“Shame, to think how long those books took to write; let’s put em out.”

Flames inside the library were a towering inferno. Books were a greater accelerant than jet fuel and the outgassing of chemical pulp from their pages poured off the shelves and into the air like moths burning in flame.

“Somebody, get a hose in here quick!” Carl’s asbestos fire suit was heating up and his mask was fogging over with smoke.

“Is that somebody on the 3rd floor?” Carl asked. It was a black figure or was it a cloud? It vanished as quickly as it appeared.

“Turn on the pressure!” Carl held the great python like he was wrestling a bull while the water shot 4 stories into the air. It evaporated before it got there.

“This is a lost cause. We’d better back out before we get cooked.”

But when Carl was about to leave, he noticed something odd; a book that wasn’t burning.

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