Conversatus Interuptus in Adventures From Prison

Shortly before I left the library, the Wyner struck again. The day had been slower than normal, giving my co-workers and I the rare opportunity to relax. Our boss had just brought in the mail and we were leafing through the new issues of magazines and pointing out interesting articles to one another.
“Check out this thing,” my friend Rich said to me.
“Newest idea in adventure tourism, a balloon that carries a pod all the way up to sub-space so you can see the curvature of the Earth for an hour or two, then the balloon detaches and the pod glides back to Earth. Only $50k a ride.”
“You know if I were rich I would totally –”
“What are you talking about?” a voice interrupts me from the counter.
Rick and I look up and the Wyner is staring at us. The guy must have the powers of the Flash because I swear when I started talking he was on the other side of the room nearly 20 feet away.
“Is that the new issue of Popular Science?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“I’d like to see it,” he said
“It’ll be up tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? But you’re looking at it now.”
“Exactly,” he said.
“Well, let me see it when you’re done.”
“No,” I told him.
“No?”
“New periodicals go up at 11:30 a.m. everyday. It’s 2 p.m. The list of magazines put up today is right there,” I point to a sheet of paper near his elbow. “Do you see Popular Science on that list?”
He looks at it, “It’s not on here.”
“Bingo. It’ll be up tomorrow.”
“That’s stupid.”
“No, that’s policy.”
“You have it in your hands.”
“Yes, we have it. You can have it tomorrow.”
Angry he scowls at me and leaves.
The next morning at 9 a.m., he comes back. “Let me see Popular Science.” “Sure,” I said and hand him the issue on our shelf.
He looks at it. then at me. “This isn’t the new issue. Where is the new issue?”
“Seriously? We just had this discussion.” “You said it would be here tomorrow. It’s tomorrow, so where is the magazine?”
“I said it’ll be available at 11:30.”
“Really? You’re going to make me wait two hours?”
“No, I’m going to make all 1800 people on this compound wait two hours.”
“But it’s right back there. You’re not reading it so it has to be just sitting there,” he growls. This is killing him and I am loving it. He’s been here a week and thinks he’s better than everyone. I hate guys like that.
“Look we have rules for a reason. We follow those rules in the library, like it or not, because we want to make sure that on this compound there is one place everyone is treated fairly regardless of who they know or what there crime was.” I tell him calmly. “You’re not special.”
“I’m not talking to you any more,” he said and swear to God, gives me The Hand. “Where’s the other librarian?”
I laugh, “He will tell the same thing. Just come back…”
“I said I’m not talking to you. You’re not reasonable.” He slaps the counter. “Can someone help me please?” he shouts.
“Just calm down, man,” I tell him.
“Get away from me! Since I got here, you’ve been pushing my buttons. So just get away!” he cries. “You’re just not reasonable,” he scampers away to the other end of the counter.
Now I feel bad. Not because of what I’ve said or done but because he is seriously making a fool of himself. I step toward him. He really is clueless.
“I know this whole prison thing is hard,” I said.
“Get Away! Get Away! Get Away!” he screams at me like a girl.
I hold up my hands and back-up. “Fine. No problem.”
So much for helping him out.
Things were quiet for a few days, then on Sunday morning, Rick was reading a chess book.
“Have you ever heard of an En Passet move? he asks me.
Out of freaking nowhere, The Wyner materializes at the counter.
“Which chess book is that?” he asked.
Rick and I both jump.
“Where did he come from?” I mouthed to Rick.
He shrugs.
“I’d like to read that chess book.”
“And I’d like to go home,” I tell him. “But seeing as Rick is reading that book and there are still guys with guns surrounding the prison, neither of us are in luck today.”
“Well then give me the name and author of the book.”
Reluctantly, Rick gives it to him.
The next morning, the Wyner returns and asks for it. I look on the shelf, it’s not there.
“I guess Rick is still reading it,” I tell him.
“But it’s a Reference book.”
“Which means it can’t be checked out unless our boss okays it. Rick’s a librarian, our boss okayed it.”
“But I want to read it,” he whines.
“And you can once he’s done with it.”
“Well when will that be?”
“I don’t know,” I said with serious exasperation.
“What’s he doing with it?”
“Oh I’m not sure but if I had to guess I’d say he’s READING IT.”
“Are you being smart with me?” he asked.
“No,” I deadpan. He glares.
“You know we have like five other Chess books,” I tell him.
“I’ve read them,” he scoffs.
“You just got here.”
“I’ve looked at them and I already know that information.”
“You know all of Bobby Fischer’s moves by heart?” I ask incredulously. “Because we have one on all his tricks and strategies.”
“I’m not interested. I want to see the one you were discussing.”
Finally he leaves. Curious I check our other books to see if the move Rick mentioned was something overlooked in our other books. It wasn’t.
For about a week the Wyner comes back every morning to ask either me or Rick about that book.
“You’re reading it slow on purpose,” I accuse Rick one morning when we were alone.
“Maybe,” he said with a grin.
Eventually, Rick brings the book back. I’m there when the Wyner comes in and Rick brings it over to him.
“Finally!” The Wyner said.
He takes it back to his table. After not five minutes, he’s back at the counter.
“Here you go,” he said.
“You’re done? Already?”
“Yeah. It’s not interesting.”
Rick hands him his ID.
Completely clueless of our glares of angry disbelief, The Wyner goes back to his seat.