Paperclip
Aziraphale, the most organized dragon of the lair and also head librarian, gathered up the stacks of papers on his desk, placing them neatly into piles. Some of them were astronomical errata to be inserted into certain published works, others were reports on various desert wildlife, and still others were just normal library paperwork. To Aziraphale, who never found a piece of paper he somehow could not save, each sheet was precious and deserved a place in the library files. Sorting through the astronomical notes he encountered an interesting memo regarding an apparent new constellation, which resembled the rather mundane paperclip.
Reminded of the timeliness of his task, he carefully separated the stacks into more stacks in order of importance and subject matter. Soon he had created numerous smaller stacks, each one requiring a paperclip, for which he reached into the decorative wooden paperclip holder on his desk. His long, thin fingers scraped the bottom of the box. Picking it up, he discovered it was completely devoid of paperclips.
“Ach. I forgot to place the order for more, this is a disaster!” Aziraphale moaned in consternation. It wasn’t at all like him to forget such an important item, but he had been away for weeks acquiring books for the collection and his new assistant was, in a word, useless.
He rifled through his desk drawers looking for more clips. He searched the credenza. Growing more apoplectic by the minute he removed the cushions from the chaise longue (yes, it is in fact, “longue” and not “lounge”, he always liked to remind his peers and anyone who would listen. Aziraphale was generally regarded as a literary curmudgeon and a bit eccentric, but a snazzy dresser). In a fit of near rage Aziraphale threw himself onto the chaise longue and bit his trembling lower lip.
“Good heavens I have lost my MIND! I must have PAPERCLIPS!” he shouted into the still atmosphere of the library, which fortunately was closed and he was alone. Dust that had been dislodged by his outburst trickled from the ceiling.
His fit of anger was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door to his office. He took a few deep breaths and went to answer the door. Standing in the doorway was a somewhat terrifying 2-dimensional being in the shape of a gigantic paperclip. It smiled at Aziraphale, waggled its black eyebrows up and down, and smiled. And then it spoke. In a high-pitched voice with an unplaceable accent, the being introduced itself, “I’m Clippy! How can I help?"
Aziraphale almost passed out. Coming to his senses Az tried to slam the door shut but the creature, the….paperclip…grabbed the edge of the door and squeezed through, its flattened face expressing impatience, preternatural eyebrows furrowing and the strangely cartoon eyes pleading for Aziraphale to let it help him.
Aziraphale started to hyperventilate.
Growing angrier, Clippy’s eyes became darker, more menacing. “I AM HERE TO HELP! ARE YOU WRITING A LETTER?” and it bounced over to Az’s desk. It began stuffing the stacks of paper into its wire, er, ribcage. Aziraphale could take no more. Clearly this was some sort of demon, or hallucination, or alien lifeform. Maybe all three. But Az was much larger than this thing, so he threw a lavender chenille blanket (only the finest quality) over Clippy and wrestled the menace to the floor. He tore down a fine silk curtain pull (handmade) and wrapped it around the chenille blanket holding Clippy, trapping the vile creature who squirmed a lot and kept repeating that it was there to help. Okay, so not a hallucination then, Az thought, with some relief.
Aziraphale hoisted the bundle onto his shoulders, crossed the room and threw it into a crate he had just emptied of books. Hammering it shut, he placed it on a book trolley, left the library building and headed toward the nearby cliffs overlooking the Lightning Realm, where he chucked it into the sea.
