the bearded lady

The bionic hookers have eaten every book in the house but they’re still hungry, so they twock a Ford car and joyride it into town. It breaks down on the high street, and the hookers slither out the car windows and kick the Ford lustily, denting the bodywork with their enormous metal boots. They’ve watched enough TV to know that when a car breaks down, it deserves a good kicking.

Rain bounces off the roof of the Ford and the metal boots of the hookers. It slides off their nylon hair and plastic clothes. This is the first time the hookers have seen rain, and they find it exhilarating, if wet. They don’t seem to realise that if they get caught out here, they’ll be taken back to the Factory and destroyed. They are just following their stomachs. They can smell the library.

To the hookers, the library is like the food court of a shopping mall. It’s like a tapas bar, a Chinese restaurant, a revolving sushi stand. There is every kind of food here: thrillers like juicy hot dogs, a mixed fruity platter of magical realism, romantic cupcakes, sci-fi sashimi. The hookers burst through the high wooden doors and throw themselves onto the linoleum, sliding, screeching with laughter, into the stacks. A spinner full of historical romances collapses on top of them and they dig in right there and then, ripping the pages out and stuffing them in their luscious plummy mouths. They bite the happy endings right off the plump creamy paper.

Bionic hookers are always escaping from the Factory, and from their owners. It’s a big problem in all the major cities, and all librarians are specially trained in how to apprehend and deal with any escaped units they find. Eating books is wrong.