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On the Benefits and the Pitfalls of Obsessive Compulsive Behaviour by Rhianwen
Summary:
In which Yomiko learns the hard way that books on tape really aren't
for her, and Nenene learns the hard way that books on tape really
aren't for Yomiko. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, they don't like me. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Remember
what I said, Yomiko," Nenene commanded sternly, crossing her arms
and all but glaring at the bespectacled girl hovering nervously in
front of her. Yomiko
cast a longing, wistful look at the rows upon rows of bookshelves
lining the walls and almost every other available inch of space, and
the stacks of books obscuring the floor. "I know,
Nenene," she sighed mournfully. "If you
feel like you really have to read something, use the-" "Nenene!
You make me sound like some sort of addict!" Nenene
smirked. "Oh,
yeah? And what should I make you sound like?" Two bright
pink circles formed on Yomiko's cheeks, and Nenene hid a grin. "Look, I
gotta get going. Try to get some marking done tonight, would
you?" With that,
the door banged shut, and Yomiko slogged sadly over to the desk
wedged into one corner and piled several feet high with books. Her
expression remarkably like that of someone turning one's best
friend out of doors during a blizzard, she scooped up piles of books
and set them very gently on the floor. Finally,
desk clear, she pulled out the chair, withdrew a stack of exam papers
from the top drawer, uncapped a pen, and went determinedly to work. --------------------------------------------------------- Three
minutes later, a wild-eyed, slightly trembling Yomiko crossed the
room in search of the little cassette tape player Nenene had left on
one of her visits. "I hope
you were right about this, Nenene," she murmured, picking up and
carefully examining the box that the author had left on the little
table by the door. "Emma: The Audio Version, As Read by Hubert
L. Pickledon. What a strange name," she concluded, shaking her
head in bewilderment. Still,
nothing daunted, she popped the tape into the tape deck and made her
way slowly back to her desk. As the
rich, soothing voice of the reader floated across the room towards
her, Yomiko closed her eyes and relaxed into the familiar story.
Yes...that was it. For a split second, she had almost tricked her
mind into thinking that the book was open in front of her; tricked
her hands into feeling the weight of the cover; tricked her fingers
into feeling the slightly rough texture of the paper. Yomiko
sighed again. It wasn't quite the same, but Nenene was right; it
was better than nothing. And she really did have to get some
grading done this evening. And so,
resolutely picking up her pen, she settled in to work and listen with
half an ear to the man on the tape droning out the imaginings and
lovingly developed fancies of her old friend, Jane Austen. The first
half hour passed without incident, and with quite a lot being
accomplished. Yomiko had just begun to reflect, pleasantly surprised,
that Nenene might be onto something with this book-on-tape idea, when
it happened. The young
woman at the desk froze, her pen dropping from suddenly nerveless
fingers. He hadn't. In an
instant, Yomiko was on her feet, climbing hastily through the piles
of clutter on the floor. Almost lunging at the cassette player, she
punched the rewind button, and then the play button. Apparently,
he had. Best to
make sure. Rewind.
Play. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. She didn't
want to judge hastily, after all. Rewind.
Play. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. This sort
of allegation was serious business. Rewind.
Play. Rewind. Play. Rewind. Play. It was
true. Her ears weren't deceiving her. Eleven times. Nevertheless,
she had to be sure that, even though her ears were working
fine, her memory wasn't malfunctioning. Two hours
and a decent amount of rummaging through the many bookshelves crowded
into the room later, Yomiko sat on the floor amid a pile of
thirty-seven books, each of them a different edition of Emma.
One by one, she flipped through each book until she reached Page 58,
then skimmed quickly, and then sighed as her suspicions were
(repeatedly) confirmed. Finally,
the pile dwindled to three last editions, then to two, then to one,
and then to an empty patch of carpet. She hadn't
been recalling incorrectly ‚ the error had been on the part of Mr.
Pickledon. This sort
of glaring error called for a little gentle correction. Or
perhaps, Yomiko amended crossly on the way back to her desk, a little
not-so-gentle correction, in the form of a strongly-worded letter. -------------------------------------------------- Half an
hour of agonizing and proof-reading later, she glanced back over her
painstakingly written little note, and smiled in satisfaction. Perfect. To Whom
It May Concern, it read, This is
a quick note from a concerned reader. Upon listening to your
recording of Jane Austen's Emma on cassette, as read by
Hubert R. Pickledon, I was distressed to notice an error, in the
eighth chapter of Volume I. The original passage reads, "'But as
to my letting her marry Robert Martin, it is impossible'",
but Mr. Pickledon clearly said, instead, "'But as to my letting
her marry Robert Martin, it's impossible'". I urge you to
correct this, as the passage in question is crucial to a full
understanding and enjoyment of the book. Thank-you
for your time, Yomiko
Readman. A little
mean, perhaps, but a case like this called for forceful language. Now to
mail it. ---------------------------------------------------- Ten
minutes later, a completely typical, boring, and altogether
incidental business man watched from his seat on the bus stop bench,
hands folded and briefcase neatly in his starched and immaculately
creased lap, as a young dark-haired woman with large thick
black-framed classes and badly wrinkled clothes emerged from the
building across the street. Someone
actually lived there? The girl
carried in one hand a small brown paper parcel, and in the other, a
novel. Nose firmly in book, she meandered down the street in a
slightly weaving pattern, until she reached the mailbox. By
'reached', of course, the chronicler means 'walked headfirst
into with a clang and a pained yelp'. The man at
the bus stop was on his feet and preparing to cross the street to
assist the young woman, but stopped short as, nothing daunted, she
dropped the package into the mailbox and meandered back down the
street, nose once again firmly in book, until she reached the dull
and dingy building again. The bus
stop patron shook his head. This was
one weird neighbourhood. --------------------------------------------------------- "Uh,
Yomiko," Nenene began with surprising hesitancy the next evening,
warily eyeing the pile of Emma scattered over the floor of her
friend's home. From her
position in the chair nearest the door, hands folded neatly, Yomiko
blinked. "Hmm?" "I'm
really glad you're finished marking those exam papers, but what are
you doing?" Yomiko
looked down sheepishly and pushed her glasses back up as they began
to slip off her nose. "Um,
about those, Nenene..." Nenene's
expression was the picture of grumpy annoyance, her posture likewise
as she turned folded her arms and fixed her friend with a silent yet
menacing command to start talking. "Yeah?" "I
didn't quite get through them all." "How
many do you have left?" "Hmm...how
many students were there, again?" "Forty-three,"
Nenene replied warily. "About thirty-seven that probably turned in
papers." "Well,
then, I have thirty-three left," Yomiko announced, smiling happily,
very pleased with her own powers of deduction. Or perhaps simply
trying to deflect Nenene's inevitable wrath. "You
only got four finished?" Nenene asked, very slowly and
eerily calm. "What did you spend all night doing?" "Oh,
Nenene, the book on tape you gave me-" "What!
I gave you that so you would get something done!" "But
this was a special situation!" The
brunette ground her teeth. "Yeah,
how?" "Let me
show you," Yomiko requested eagerly, already moving for the tape
deck. Nenene
watched as the books began to pile up on the table next to it.
Really, there was only one thing to be said, and Nenene lost no time
in saying it. "Ugh..." ---------------------------------------------------- It was
close to an hour later, an hour that had nearly been the death of
Nenene's sanity, when the presentation concluded. Setting down the
last copy of Emma, Yomiko beamed expectantly at her friend. "Now you
understand, right?" "Yeah, I
understand," Nenene replied flatly. "I understand that
you're crazy." "Nenene!"
the older girl protested piteously. "I had to do it! These books
should be preserved in their entirety, even on tape!" "Yomiko,"
Nenene ground out. "We're talking about 'it is' being
replaced by 'it's'. It's not a big deal!" "It
is not a big deal!" Yomiko corrected automatically. "ARGH!"
Nenene said very calmly. "Oh, the
mail's here!" the older girl exclaimed delightedly as a gentle,
repeated tap carried up the stairs from the front door. "Don't
you mean the mail is here?" Nenene mimicked sarcastically. "Oh,
yes, of course," Yomiko agreed sheepishly. "Thank-you, Nenene." "Why do
I bother?" Nenene wondered aloud in a pained groan as Yomiko
meandered down the stairs, nose firmly in a book that had caught her
attention on the way out of the room. The lovely
and talented, if dangerously irate Miss Sumiregawa was to have no
time to ponder why she, in fact, bothered, as the next second, the
air was filled with a joyful squeal. "What
now?" she had just begun to ask herself, when Yomiko came dancing
back into sight, a brown paper parcel tucked under one arm. "They
answered my letter, Nenene! I was beginning to think that they didn't
care about their mistake, but I was wrong! They've replied
after all!" Nenene
smirked. "What
does it say? No, no, let me guess." She cleared her throat. "Dear
Miss Readman: get a social life. Now. We beg you." "No,
that's not what it says," Yomiko said absently, peering at the
slip of paper. "Dear Miss Readman," she read aloud. "We thank
you for your concern regarding Mr. Pickledon's reading of Emma.
We will work to correct the error at our earliest opportunity. In the
meantime, please enjoy this complimentary copy of our publisher's
forty-ninth edition, with a special introduction by Mr. Pickledon,
and critical material." Nenene
blinked, surprised, as Yomiko withdrew a book from the box and smiled
in satisfaction, before sliding it onto the bookshelf next to her
other copies. "And
that makes thirty-eight." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ End Notes: Isn't Yomiko CUTE when she's being maybe-manipulative?
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