In the quiet reading rooms of the Seventh St. Library, patrons mumbled and scribbled notes, unaware of the surprise that awaited them. Amidst the stacks, a peculiar sight caught the attention of one of the shelving clerks: a green dragon, about the size of a large cat, sprawled across a shelf, snoring softly.

The dragon, whose name was Harter, had wandered into the library in search of adventure, but the smell of old books sometimes has a soporific effect on dragons, just as it does on people. He fell asleep on an upper shelf, his scales glistening like emeralds in the dim light, and his fiery breath now consisting of gentle snores and small puffs of smoke.

As the morning progressed, whispers spread among the readers: “What’s
that… thing on the shelf?” from a pint-sized patron, “Is it a new exhibit?” from old Mrs. Shrewsbury, “Should we be concerned?” from Gladys Talbot, came in regularly to do genealogical research and worried about everything.

Harter, feeling refreshed, woke up with a start. His eyes scanned the
shelves, spotting an enticing array of fantasy novels. Without hesitation,
he swooped in, claws clicking on the floor. The books trembled as he
began to read aloud, his voice rumbling like thunder.

The patrons gasped as the green dragon devoured pages at an alarming rate, flinging finished volumes over one shoulder. Signatures were torn from their bindings. The the air was filled with fluttering paper. In a flurry of excitement, Harter snatched up a Georgette Heyer regency romance novel, declaring, “I’ve always wanted to try my writing talent at historical fiction!”

The librarian tottered into the fiction section to behold a snowfall of loose pages. “What… what is happening here?” she said. Harter, still engrossed in his reading, merely grunted, “Shh, human! I want to know if the villain gets what’s coming to him. The hero is in hot pursuit. I think there will be a sword fight.”

As the library staff struggled to contain the chaos, Harter continued to
devour books, leaving a trail of paper scraps and delighted small children in his wake. Amidst the mayhem, the librarian wrung her hands and thought, “I hope he doesn’t chew up the computers.”

Finally, after several hours of book-wrangling and dragon- wriggling, Harter finished his reading marathon. With a contented sigh, he settled down among the scattered pages and prepared for another long dragon nap.

At the end of a very long day the exhausted library staff held an emergency after hours meeting and decided that a green dragon mascot might possibly be a drawing card to boost attendance and circulation, if the matter were properly presented to the Board of Trustees. Eventually Harter was welcomed as the library’s official “Dragon-in-Residence,” where he spent his days reading (and occasionally devouring) books and bringing joy to patrons of all ages.

Other libraries may have resident cats but only the Seventh Street Library has a resident green dragon. The Board took quite a bit of c onvincing, but eventually they did come around. A line item was added to the budget “Replacement costs of items destroyed by the dragon.” Fortunately Mr. Williams, grandson of the library’s founder, who was enormously rich, agreed to underwrite these added costs. He was justified; the publicity proved invaluable.

(This piece of tomfoolery was contributed by the website designer.)