**Parts two through five were just useless dribble-we are all better off without them. But, look for the missing adventures in the "My Heart Torn Asunder Director's Ultra-special Edition Cut of the Millennium."

"Squeak, squeaky, squeak, squeak, squeaky," went the little wobbly book cart as I haphazardly rolled it through the rows and rows of Chinese books on the seventh floor of the library. I wasn't really paying attention to the course of the cart; I was too busy looking out for Bridget Ducheyne and her frizzy hair of doom. After last Thursday's incident with the Polish to Dutch dictionary and the blind lady, I was trying to stay away from sweater vests and bad hair. It's amazing how one person could master both the art of intensely poor fashion and the ability for nauseating perkiness. Someone like her could be used as a powerful weapon in the right situation…

This was my third week on the job and Bridget was the most notable thing that had occurred. I knew the library was going to be as dull as a "I Love My Cat" convention, but I expected at least one bookshelf to catch on fire or to have a few of the photocopiers explode in repetition angst. If things didn't improve any in the next six to twelve minutes, I might have to resort to shoving study desks out the eighth floor window.

I continued mindlessly pushing/shoving the cart and took a sharp left turn down the isle of study tables. Unconscious students, droll dampened books, and empty coke cans filled the tables to capacity. I occasionally rolled over a foot or a half-eaten Twinkie with the little wheels of the cart, but no one stirred. I thought this might be my final moments of sanity before cracking up with the lack of stimulation, when all of the sudden, she appeared.

Gloria Antonia Soledad Aguilar Gomez de Perez Estufa Calor turned the corner of the "Modern Asian Languages" shelf and was a mere seventeen feet away from me. As her long dark mane swished to and fro in step with her delicate saunter, time seemed to slow and almost freeze. In her wake every part of my body went numb, except for my heart, which blazed with the passion of a hundred lava floes.

In all the excitement, I had lost complete control of the book cart which was now on a deadly collision course for the "Chinese and You!" collection. "Squeak, squeaky, squeak, BANG!" were the only sounds preceding the greatest library disaster in all of Davis' history. The cart met the bookshelf, the bookshelf met the next bookshelf, and so on and so on like a giant set up of "Domino Rally" until finally, the farthest shelf holding the dated Chinese books smashed into, and out of a very unprepared window.

The whole scene would fill my dreams for years to come, and I don't think the Asian Languages Department was ever the same after this. But, as the dust of a thousand semesters settled back to the covers and pages of the tattered books, Gloria walked, or rather floated, past me with a simple, but powerful smile. Ah yes, I really did have the most wonderful job in the entire piedmont region of North Carolina.