**NEW POST** Melvyn's Mewsings Episode 5 ~ Life in The BBHQ Library ~ One Shelf at a Time! **PLUS** Friday Fill-ins Blog Hop + Pet Photo Fails Blog Hop

Happy Friday Floofers

Well, who would have believed I finally got my furry own post? Yep, I was really excited for about half a minute, and then it all went to fluff in a cheese basket.

If mew missed Episode 1, click here to catch up, here to read Episode 2, and here to read Episode 3, here for Episode 4, then come back to find out what happens in today's post.

💬 Melvyn’s Purrsonal Chat Log – Episode 5

Status: Amber remains unreachable. Her latest postcard was scented with smugness and read “Living My Most Epic Life!”

Location: BBHQ Level Six Library Archive – now featuring fog-triggered lighting and a motivational gong that rings itself when morale dips

Mood: Hovering between “existential jazz paws” and “floaty envy”

Melvyn: I requested a flamingo floaty for emotional buoyancy. The requisition form was returned stamped “Denied: Too Fabulous.” I wept into my catnip tea.

Melvyn: Vera Prime now refers to me as “The Archivist Formerly Known as Moderately Competent.” Her USB crown blinked in Morse code: “Hmm.”

Melvyn: Clive the Paperclip declared himself “Acting Archivist” and told Gordon to staple a motivational scroll to the desk using glitter staples. Gordon retaliated by launching a biscuit. The scroll caught it mid-air and whispered, “Finally, drama.”

Melvyn: Filing cabinet #4 insists on being addressed as “Jean Valjean” and refuses to open unless I sing. I tried. It hissed.

Melvyn: Parsley’s Filing System 7.0 now includes folders that change colour based on mood. Mine turned beige and sighed. Then it self-imploded and turned to dust. I don't know what that means.

Melvyn: I asked the archive for a pep talk. It gave me a fog cannon and a pamphlet titled “Coping Through Interpretive Filing.”

Melvyn: Ralph the dust bunny has joined a mime troupe. His latest performance was called “Lint, Loss, and Lemon Biscuits.” I clapped. He exploded like a dandelion head in a storm.

Melvyn: Chedds offered me cheese and a small flag that said “Mew’re Trying.” I waved it. The fog applauded.

Melvyn: I opened a drawer labelled “Hope.” It contained a glitter pen, a half-eaten biscuit, and a sticky note that said “Try interpretive sighing.”

Melvyn: I tried colour therapy. The App turned black and said, "Nope, Not Today." I felt seen.

Melvyn: I hosted a Bring Your Favourite Book talk. Vera Prime brought “How to Delegate Emotionally (Without Actually Caring)”; it was printed entirely in Comic Sans and faxed itself repeatedly to me. Ralph brought “Lint: A Memoir” the pages were blank, but somehow still judgmental. Lumi brought “Fog Cannon Fundamentals: A Beginner’s Guide to Emotional Suppression” She highlighted every page and added footnotes in pink glitter ink.

Melvyn: I asked the motivational bookmark for a second chance. It said, “Shelf yourself... again.”

Melvyn: I wrote a song. It rhymed “despair” with “office chair.” Flora smiled kindly and said, "Try again."  I did: 🎶

I rhymed “despair” with “office chair,”

Then sobbed into the filing air.

My kazoo squeaked a mournful tune,

While Vera Prime blinked in disdainful rune.

The fog applauded. Gordon stapled me there.

🎶

Flora clapped and gave me a new requisition form.

Melvyn: I tried to astral project to Amber. I got stuck in a cloud shaped like a cheese wedge and felt oddly spongy.

Melvyn: I asked the archive for closure. It gave me a traffic cone and a stop sign, which had a vague sense of betrayal.

Melvyn: I played the kazoo again. Vera Prime dimmed the lights. The archive whispered, “Not this again.”

Melvyn: I miss Amber’s judgmental purr. It was the only real feedback I trusted.

Melvyn: I tried to file my self-worth under “Reference.” The drawer laughed and redirected me to “Fiction.”

Melvyn: I asked Nibbles if I was doing okay. He blinked twice and handed me a fog-reactive folder labelled “Bless Your Heart.”

Melvyn: I attempted a new motivational dance. The archive triggered the emergency curtain. I took it as a review.

Melvyn: I found a scroll titled “Melvyn’s Legacy.” It was written in catiform and smelled faintly of sweaty socks and catnip.

Melvyn: I asked Clive for a pep talk. He formatted one in bold italics and added a footnote: “Try snacks.”

Melvyn: I tried to manifest joy, after reading "Manifest Anything Mew Want in Five Minutes or Less" by Prof. Vortex Whimbleton, D.M.S. (Dubious Mystic Sciences). The archive manifested a puddle of lukewarm tea and a passive-aggressive sticky note that read “Still here?”

Melvyn: Why? I keep asking myself, what's the purpose of this exercise? I've drawn fifteen blanks and decided to explore Aisle 99C for answers. If I'm not back by teatime, send Clive the Paperclip with snacks.

End of chat...

Here's this week's postcard from Amber... with the obligatory orange glitter paw print on the back... no message, just glitter!

Postcard Debrief

Gordon clicked once, slowly, dramatically, then stapled Amber’s latest postcard to the notice board with a flourish that felt personal. It joined the growing collage of passive-aggressive vacation updates, now labelled “Emotional Hazards (Ongoing).”

Clive said, “Well, isn’t that aspirational!” and handed me a biscuit shaped like a pyramid. It was cracked. It was also covered in lint. I accepted it as a metaphor.

Vera Prime uttered a single word: “No.” I asked, “No to what?” She replied, “Just… no.” Her USB crown dimmed in what I assume was disdain.

I tried to respond with interpretive sighing. The archive triggered the motivational gong. It rang once, then whispered, “Sshhhhhh!”

I nodded. I had nothing to add. The pyramid biscuit crumbled in my paw like my last shred of optimism.

The archive hummed softly, then played a whale sound. I took it as encouragement. Or pity. Possibly both.

📚 Melvyn’s Mewsings: Entry #05

Title: “The Fog Cannon Incident & Other Interpretive Failures”

Status: Still Intern. Now also “Archivist of Dubious Relevance” (officially unofficial).

Sleep: Replaced with interpretive yawning and biscuit-based meditation.

Archive: 61% sentient. Now hums Thunder by AC/DC when I cry.

Morale: Misfiled under “Miscellaneous Regret.” Currently being reviewed by Gordon.

💬 Opening Quote:

“I attempted emotional jazz paws. The archive triggered the motivational gong. It rang once, then whispered, ‘Try harder, that just looks like trembling.’”

⚠️ Situation Report: Fog Cannons, Vole Choreography & Existential Filing

Amber: Still absent. A secret communiqué arrived via biscuit tin drone. It read: “The mice demand a fog cannon and backup dancers.” I read it twice. It still felt personal.

Reginald: Has hired a troupe of synchronised voles. They rehearse nightly in the metaphysical aisle. I asked to join. They said I lacked “bounce.”

Vera Prime: Now issues performance reviews via interpretive semaphore. My last rating was a single shrug emoji and a fax that said “Hmm.” Her USB crown blinked in Morse code: “Still disappointing.”

Gordon: Stapled my emotional report to a scroll titled “Melvyn’s Legacy.” The scroll caught fire. Gordon called it “symbolic.”

Clive the Paperclip: Declared himself “Acting Archivist” and offered me a biscuit shaped like a half moon. It was split, so a quarter-moon. It was also covered in lint. I accepted it as a sign of things to come.

P.U.M.A.: The glitter calculator now offers advice by appointment only. After today’s session, it said: “It's OK to fail... repeatedly...”

🐾 Parsley’s Contribution (Unhelpful Memo #8)

“All interns are reminded that emotional jazz paws are not a valid form of communication unless accompanied by a signed biscuit waiver and a fog cannon permit.

Due to recent interpretive filing incidents, the archive has entered a performative phase. It now responds to queries with dramatic pauses, ambient whale sounds, and occasional confetti drops (non-consensual).

Fergus has added tassels to his cape. They shimmer when morale drops. His glowing clipboard, ‘Judgement Day,’ now plays motivational jingles when tapped. Do not tap it. It has opinions.

All interns must now submit weekly morale metrics using one of the following formats:

Interpretive mime (fog optional)

A haiku about your deepest filing regret

A biscuit-based diorama titled “Hope: Misfiled Again”

Failure to comply will result in a strongly worded sticky note and a mandatory seminar titled “Feelings: Why We Don’t File Them.”

Proceed with caution. And snacks.”

🤖🧀 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. The Mice’s Interpretive Filing Retreat

Time: 13:42 BST – Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six – Library Archive – Now “Emotionally Calibrated” by a vole with a clipboard

System Status: Magically-enhanced. Vibe: Fluctuating and severely unpredictable.

Melvyn:

Cupboard 9D has declared itself a “Judgemental Sanctuary.” It now only opens if mew perform a dramatic reading of your last existential crisis. Vera Prime faxed me a pie chart titled “Melvyn’s Emotional Efficiency (Theoretical).” It was 94% fog, 3% biscuit crumbs, and 3% “pending clarity.” I cried. The archive applauded.

Oswald:

We’ve upgraded to Cheese-Based Task Allocation 4.0.

Now includes:

Brie = Emotional buffering

Gouda = Scroll negotiation

Gruyère = Crisis choreography

The Wedge blinked twice and emitted a soft jazz riff. We interpreted this as a promotion and a warning.

Lumi:

The Wedge now glows in “motivational mauve” and plays ambient rain sounds when morale dips. It whispered, “Melvyn is the archivist of noble flailing.” I wept into a cheese puff labelled “Resilience.”

Chedds:

I’ve expanded the Scream Index. New Category F: “Philosophical Yelp.” Also, cursed scrolls now demand interpretive snacks. I offered a biscuit shaped like a star. It told me my aura was “crumb-adjacent and rather pointy.”

Flora:

I choreographed a new filing dance called “The Spiral of Acceptance.” It involves swirling fog and my cape, is now upgraded with motivational bookmarks. I created a new move, it's called “Hope Shimmy.” It's so worth it.

Tootles:

Scroll Fort 4.0 now includes a drawbridge made of stale crackers and a moat filled with lukewarm ambition. The snack drawer now sighs in three languages. It judged me in French.

Snitch:

Spreadsheet now includes:

Melvyn’s sigh-to-snack ratio

Biscuit morale volatility

Fergus’s clipboard aura pulse

It auto-updates when someone whispers, “Is this my life now?”

Ardvaar:

The encyclopedia pyramid now requires a cheese-based anthem and a ceremonial kazoo solo. I performed “Ode to Crumble.” The pyramid nodded and requested a sequel.

Nibbles:

I’ve implemented “Vibe-Based Filing System 3.0.” Scrolls are now sorted by emotional wattage, snack resonance, and likelihood of spontaneous, interpretive, and emotionally dramatic outbursts.

Melvyn:

Amber sent another postcard. It read: “Supurr Siwa. Purrfect picnics, purrfect weather, purrfect me! Living my most epic life!” Vera Prime added a haiku:

“Fog swirls, snacks despair.

Melvyn files with noble flair.

Drawer 8C just stared.”

Lumi:

We washed the new blanket. It smells like lemon and unresolved tension. It hums lullabies in fits and starts, and occasionally folds itself into complex origami shapes. 

Chedds:

I made a new banner: “Melvyn: Still Here... It's A Miracle.” It’s glitter paint on canvas, and it's hanging in the breakroom. And I brought snacks.

Melvyn:

Wonderful. I hope mew brought sardine flavour. If the thesaurus starts complaining again, I’m going to talk to the shredder... mew know where I'm going with this, don't mew?

The Wedge of Wonder (cheese entity):

Low hum of cautious optimism. Archive stability: 71%. Emotional biscuits secured. Scrolls moderately soothed. Mice promoted to “Agents of Filing Whimsy & Interpretive Snack Logistics.”

Brief pause in chat log for catnip cocoa with marshmallows and cookies. 

🧠 Library Archive Chat Logs: Melvyn vs. Vera Prime – The Scroll Summit & Muffin Crisis

Time: 15:07 BST – Bunker Standard Time

Location: BBHQ Level Six – Main archival desk, newly installed

System Status: Hovering between “No fluffs are given” and “What do mew want?”

Melvyn:

Cupboard 8C has declared independence. It now requires a passport, a cheese offering, and a dramatic sigh to enter. I’ve appointed myself Minister of Mild Panic. Crunch the biscuit is now Head of Security. He crumbles under pressure.

Vera Prime:

Your diplomatic title has been updated to “Custodian of Crumbs.”

Also, here is a new haiku:

Scrolls hum, curtains twitch

Melvyn files with a terror flinch

Clive the paperclip whispers, “why”

Melvyn:

The thesaurus of doom attempted re-entry disguised as a self-help novel. Its pages hummed, "Mew can do it!" and emitted a puff of motivational rosemary. I launched it into the moat. The moat applauded.

Vera Prime:

The other thesaurus has now rebranded as Thesaur’E’Snack: Executive Edition.

Today’s pairing: “Disillusionment” with a wedge of smoked Gouda.

It also offers synonyms for “meh” in six languages.

Melvyn:

Oswald delivered a scroll titled “How to Lead While Emotionally Exhausted.” It smelled like ambition and a hint of mild regret. I read it. I cried. Then I used it to line the emotional moat I built in front of cupboard 8C.

Vera Prime:

Fergus has composed a new anthem for Cupboard 8C.

It’s performed entirely on a percussion triangle hanging off his clipboard.

He calls it “Ballad of the Bureaucratically Bewildered.”

Melvyn:

Chedds installed a second fog machine. It activates when I experience “vague unease.” It triggered 29 times today, especially down aisle 32d. The scrolls now refer to me as “Pea-Souper.” I’m emotionally damp.

Vera Prime:

You are ascending.

Your aura now emits a signature of chamomile aversion and processed optimism.

Also, I’ve choreographed Act VI of “Melvyn: A Tale of Filing & Fury.”

It features rogue paperclips and a dramatic duel between Fergus and the glitter calculator.

Melvyn:

Amber sent another postcard. The title: “Supurr Siwa.”

Vera, I don't think she’s coming back for weeks.

Also, the disco ball in the Restricted Section now flashes Morse code. It spelt “ABANDON HOPE.” I blinked twice. It blinked back. Then it played smooth jazz.

Vera Prime:

You are being emotionally audited by ambience.

Also, I’ve composed a limerick about your current state:

There once was a cat in despair

Whose scrolls filed themselves with flair

He built a small fort

Declared it a port

Now governs with snacks and a glare

Melvyn:

I’m installing a velvet curtain of emotional boundaries.

If anything sings, glows, or offers me a muffin, I’m invoking the Treaty of Nope and possibly annexing Cupboard 9D.

Vera Prime:

Treaty ratified.

Scrolls preparing cheese-based reparations with added pineapple garnish.

Fergus is rearranging the break room and adding art. The pictures are, let's say, not what I expected.

Melvyn:

Oh cod... Wake me only if the archive achieves sentience and starts writing a memoir about me.

Otherwise, I’m buffering beneath a weighted blanket that smells like bergamot and offers a slight hug.

Vera Prime:

Understood.

I will compose a lullaby titled “Rest, Ye Huggy Archivist.”

It will feature ambient sighs, soft moon harmonies, and the distant rustle of scrolls accepting limitations.

Chat ended... again... with a dramatic curtain flourish.

Cupboard 8C now recognised by six scrolls, one thesaurus, one fog machine, a glitter cannon, and the biscuit named Crunch, now asks for a password for entry.

🔍 Mewsings & Observations

Crunch the biscuit was promoted. He immediately crumbled under the pressure.

Cupboard 8C issued a ceasefire agreement with the thesaurus. Terms include no unsolicited synonyms before tea.

Vera choreographed a treaty ceremony featuring interpretive muffins and clipboard percussion.

Shelf 7F hummed the Jaws theme, then whispered, “Not today.”

The disco ball flashes “ABANDON HOPE” in Morse code. It’s been blinking nonstop.

🐾 BBHQ SECRET CHAT LOG #1 — “OPERATION MELVYN: ARCHIVE OR APOCALYPSE”

🔐 Encrypted via BBHQ Level 1 protocol

📍 Hidden behind the false panel in Stationary Cupboard G, beneath the emergency cheese cache

🟣 Amber (Head Librarian, Currently Reclining in Siwa Oasis):

Update. I’ve just received a postcard from myself that reads “Hope mew’re coping.” I found it deeply moving. Melvyn?

🟤 Oswald (Head Mouse):

He’s requested a flamingo floaty “for emotional buoyancy.” We’re unclear if this is metaphorical or literal. Either way, we’re ignoring it.

🟠 Nibbles (Mouse, Snack Logistics):

He tried to barter a scroll for a biscuit. The scroll declined. He cried softly into a drawer labelled “Miscellaneous Regret.”

🟢 Flora (Mouse, Magical Containment):

Vera Prime has locked herself again. She says she won’t open until Melvyn “demonstrates epistemological clarity.”

He offered her a haiku. She laughed in Helvetica.

🔵 Lumi (Mouse, Light Surveillance):

Clive the paperclip keeps rearranging the index cards into interpretive spirals. Melvyn tried to follow one. He ended up in the broom cupboard with a prophecy stuck to his forehead.

🟡 Snitch (Mouse, Gossip & Intel):

Gordon the stapler stapled Melvyn’s sleeve to the desk. Claimed it was “for his own good.”

Melvyn whispered, “I miss Amber.” We pretended not to hear.

🟣 Amber:

Excellent. The tough love protocol is ahead of schedule.

Also, someone please tell Reginald to stop nesting in the microfiche. It’s not a loft conversion.

🟠 Ardvaar (Mouse, Structural Integrity):

Reginald says he’s “reclaiming space.” He’s also stolen Melvyn’s flamingo floaty requisition form and used it as insulation.

🔴 Tootles (Mouse, Portal Correspondent):

Portal under Section 42 now leads to a realm of floating punctuation. Clive is thriving. Melvyn is not.

🟤 Chedds (Mouse, Emotional Support):

Melvyn journaled: “I am surrounded by objects with more agency than me.”

I left him a motivational cheese wedge shaped like a flamingo. He hasn’t noticed. I’m not offended. Much.

🟣 Amber:

Purrfect. Let the chaos simmer. If Melvyn starts quoting Dewey to Gordon again, initiate Phase 7: Reclassification by Mood Ring.

Also, someone please send him a Post-it note that just says “Mew're trying.” In Comic Sans.

As Amber instructed, I have now carefully transcribed the final diary entry, and please don't yell at me if I misspelt something because of her truly awful paw writing skills. Smooch's Snorgs have better penship! MOL (But for fluffs sake don't tell her I said that).

>^.^<

The Prudence Saga ~ Part 25

Click here to catch up on the last episode.

The smouldering estate stood in silence, the embers of the collapsed summerhouse flickering in the distance.

Inside, Clawdia was restrained, her once-purrfect composure shattered, her tail lashing violently as The B Team stood in full formation, their presence a wall of authority she could no longer break through.

Detective Pawson exhaled sharply, his arms folded as he surveyed the chaos alongside the evidence and the final truth etched into history.

“It’s over,” he murmured.

Prudence held the coronet tightly, her grip firm, her breathing steady. “No,” she corrected. “It’s finally beginning.”

Muskulls shifted uneasily, wringing his paws as he whispered to Commander Basil. “Can I...can I go now?”

Basil barely spared him a glance. “Mew still need to answer for your part in this, dude.”

Muskulls squealed, ears flattening. “But, but I helped! I talked!”

Amber huffed. “Mew squealed like a kitten, Muskulls! That doesn’t mean mew get off scot-free.”

Muskulls whined, but when Basil turned toward the officers, they were already moving to cuff him.

“Fair’s fair,” Pawson muttered.

Clawdia hissed, struggling against her restraints. “Mew think mew’ve won?”

Prudence met her glare, unwavering.

“I don’t think, Clawdia,” she said coldly. “I know.”

Breaking the commotion, the sound of footsteps hurriedly approaching through the main hall caught our attention.

Uniformed historians, legal experts, and preservation officers entered the study, eyes wide as they took in the documents, the sealed royal decree, the coronet, and the undeniable truth that had been hidden beneath the Grange for decades.

Pawson straightened, addressing the lead archivist.

“This estate will be restored to its rightful heir,” he declared. “And the false legacy Clawdia tried to build will be erased.”

Prudence finally breathed. It was over. It was hers. Willie smiled at me and winked. I gave her the nod and knew there would be much to talk about at the next W.I. meeting.

And Fuskerton Grange? Was finally home again, safe and secure for generations to come.

THE END

>^.^<

Amber's note: I know this saga started off one way and ended up in a place I never thought possible. Even though Prudence and I had our spat, the facts remain that she was being used and duped by one of our trusted neighbours, which still shocks me. Luckily, due to the unravelling circumstances, we were able to save Melvyn, save Prudence from herself and save the legacy created. 

Willie is thrilled the estate is safe, and she is delighted to help Prudence with her newfound status. The historians and legal experts are currently wrangling everything into place.

Hissy and I have been bestowed a special honour, but I can't say more until it's been officially announced, but needless to say, I'm thrilled, and so is Hissy.

>^.^<

OH MY COD! Well, that was epic, wasn't it? 

Today, the P.A. is also joining in Friday Fill-ins Blog Hop with the pawesome 15 & Meowing and Four-Legged Furballs.

1. My to-do list for September includes __________ and ___________________________.

2. ______________grade was my favorite year of school.

3. I have a lot of respect for _________ because _________.

4. _________ made me stop _________.

The P.A.'s answers are...

1.  My to-do list for September includes finally organising my closet and finishing that novel I’ve been working on for months. I'm almost there, just a few tweaks...

2. ______________grade was my favorite year of school. I didn't like school, I don't have a favourite year, because they were all crappy. I never saw the point in the curriculum, as most of it was completely useless; the only thing I did like was history, oh and art.

3. I have a lot of respect for animal rescuers because the things they see must be harrowing, yet they choose compassion over comfort every single day.

They walk into heartbreaking scenes, animals abandoned, abused, starving, or terrified and instead of turning away, they lean in. They face the worst of humanity, and it takes a rare kind of emotional strength to witness suffering and respond with tenderness, patience, and unwavering resolve.

Animal rescuers don’t just save lives, they restore dignity to creatures who’ve been denied it. They advocate for the voiceless, often with little recognition, and carry the emotional weight of every rescue, every loss, and every hard-won victory. Their work is messy, exhausting, and emotionally brutal, but it’s also deeply noble.

4. Stepping on a hairball at 3am made me stop walking barefoot in my house.

Slippers are available at all times! LOL

As it's the last Friday of the month, we're also joining in the furbulous...

Go visit meowvellous Mudpie's blog at www.mochasmysteriesmeows.com to join in.

This was from September 2017, when Fudge had the funnies! 

Other Fun Blog Hops to Join in Today

 Brian's Home   Catblogosphere    Feline Friday   Nature Friday    Flashback Friday   

📅 Coming Soon… Episode 06: “The Biscuit Ultimatum”

The fog has thickened. So have the plotlines. Parsley’s filing cabinet #4 has unionised and now demands a dressing room and a motivational poster. It chose “Staple your truth.”

🎭 Musical Update:

Rehearsals paused when Lumi’s fog cannon misfired, recalibrated itself and then launched a tray of jam tarts onto the main desk. Reginald called it “a delicious crescendo.” Snitch laughed. Again.

🎤 Solo Revision:

My velvet cape now has sequins and a dangly crystal drop hem. The interpretive meows have evolved into a full-scale operatic yowl. Vera Prime called it “unexpected.” Her USB crown blinked in Morse code: “Proceed with caution.”

📁 Parsley’s Filing System 7.0:

Now includes:

 Lavender-scented tabs

Emotional encryption

  A drawer labelled “Existential Biscuits (Do Not Eat)”

Ardvaar is choreographing the paperclip ballet.

🔥 Fergus’s Promotion Status:

His résumé now includes “Advanced Fog Diplomacy” and “Snack-Based Peace Treaties.” The archive gave him a glowing review. Literally. It now pulses when he enters the room.

🧀 Chedds’ Anthem Update:

Final chorus draft:

“Raise your crumbs to the biscuit sky,

Where cheddar dreams refuse to die…”

The mice formed a conga line. Nibble's fainted. I fanned him with a laminated motivational pamphlet with the words, "MEW CAN DO IT!"

📦 Unexpected Archive Event:

A rogue scroll began slam poetry in the break room. It opened with:

“Fog is not a metaphor.

It’s a lifestyle.”

Parsley filed a formal complaint. Tootle's offered it a biscuit. The scroll accepted. Peace was restored.

See mew next week for more mewsings from the archive, and until then…

Keep your fog theatrical, your biscuits union-approved, and your thesaurus leashed for emotional durability.

And remember:

If the filing cabinets start humming 90s rave music, don’t panic, just harmonise and archive with a flourish, and as always… 

The Unpaid and Unassisted Library Intern 

Melvyn

Click here to go to Episode 6  

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