Larry the Lizard

Mary put her book down on the desk just as the clock flashed 6:15.

Darn it, she thought. I should have closed up over an hour ago.

She sighed. If only someone would have come in this week besides the crazy guy in the lizard suit. What's the point of being a librarian if no one wants a book to read?

She was about to curse the day the town council voted to build the new library so far out of town—way out next to the Cranberry Point Lighthouse—when the door opened and a monster walked in.

It was Larry the Lizard, the guy in the suit. Mary didn't know his real name, but that was what she called him. The head of his suit looked just like the head of a reptile, but with all-white eyes. Its skin was a greenish-gray. Over it, he wore a camouflage coverall, overburdened with pockets, pouches, and overlapping belts, each of which was covered with strange, bulbous or wickedly sharp-looking objects. Thick forearms extended from the sleeves, leading down to six fingers with long claws. Bare feet stuck out below his pants, and also had six claws.

She couldn't guess where he would have bought it in this area of the state, but figured he must have paid a lot for the suit, because it was pretty good special effects, almost like you would see in a movie.

She said, "We're closed."

Larry looked at her, but as far as she could tell, he didn't say anything, and hadn't since he first appeared on Monday.

"Sir, you have to leave now."

Larry's blank eyes stared at her.

She put her hands on her hips. "Sir, I can't hear you, so if you are saying something, you'll have to take your mask off."

Larry leaned his head to one side, but just looked at her.

Just to reassure herself, Mary felt the side of her neck when she repeated herself. For a moment, she wondered just how long a 911 call would take to make on the TTY phone.

Larry punched his arm toward her.

She jumped back, startled.

He raised his meaty claws up over his head and down behind him. He pulled a large tube on a strap from the equipment on his back. It looked to Mary like a knobby, gold-colored drainpipe with random holes drilled along its three-foot length. He clamped his mouth hard around one end of it.

Mary gasped. When Larry's mouth opened, it opened more than a foot wide, and was filled with rows upon rows of shark-like teeth, all the way back to his throat, across both the top and the bottom halves. He puffed out his chest and face until he was three times larger than he had been—like a frog when it croaked.

Mary didn't think Larry was wearing a costume.

His fingers danced over the holes. The window nearest to the pipe shattered. She could feel vibrations in the desktop and even through the floor.

When he finished, Larry took the instrument out of his mouth and watched her again.

She didn't know what to do.

Her index finger slashed across her open palm, a sign for "What?".

Larry took a step backward, as if afraid. Then he laid his hands flat in front of him, palms up, and brought them together at the edge.

Book? Mary thought at a hundred miles per hour. Dear God in Heaven, what are the odds? Aliens just landed on Earth, and they want a book. I don't think there's another librarian in the whole county who knows sign language.

She put her hands into fists in front of her chest, then stuck up both thumbs. She alternated her hands, raising them up and down, to ask which book he wanted.

Larry stuck out the first two fingers on each hand, spread them apart, and then bent the long claws at the tips in toward his chest slightly. He brought his hands toward the center of his chest.

Mary grinned, and ran toward the stacks. At a particular shelf, she grabbed one by the best-known author and then brought it back to the alien.

Larry turned his head sideways and looked at it. He opened the lid and clumsily fanned through the pages.

He spun and charged through the main doors.

Mary beamed as she watched him disappear into the winter night. She had no idea what he wanted with a book on physics. Maybe he wanted to gauge how far humans had progressed. Maybe his spaceship was broken and he needed help. In either case, she was glad to give him the only book in the whole library by Stephen Hawking.

It made her proud to be a librarian.

***

Report on Species 6190:

Contact made at knowledge beacon 105, grid 43. Subject did not flee at any of the five required visits, and did not hide upon playing of standard challenge on fluge horn. It indicated that if played again, the playing hand would be chopped off. When given sign for forbidden contact, subject threatened to rip out my internal organs. I responded that I would protect them, and then subject shoved a tome of native symbols at me, exactly like the zealots of Mori IX do, species 392. Translation matrix indicated manuscript used advanced mathematics at level four, but flawed worldview. These animals do not even believe in the Great Zimx! Given that, pursuant to treaty clause 13926j.z, they would not qualify under protected status. However, given their extreme aggressiveness, caution should be taken when we hunt them tomorrow.

They look tasty.

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