On bananas in the library


Warnings/notes: AU, crossover with Discworld, Shadi, major weirdness, failed drabble, ooc.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. The Discworld-universe was created by the brilliant author Terry Pratchett. Knowledge of the Unseen University is required to understand at least a little of what's supposed to be funny.

written at 27th december 2004, by Misura, for Lucidscreamer, as a small Christmas-present.


The moment Shadi barely escaped breaking his neck due to a banana-peel, he knew something was wrong. Or rather, he knew something hadn't gone quite right. (Which is, if you really think about it, the same thing. Except, well, different.)

He'd just returned from a long and exhausting talk with some minor deities who had somehow gotten it in their heads that Seto Kaiba, of all people, was the -perfect- man to father the new generation of Duelists in their corner of the multiverse. Shadi was willing to grant Kaiba a lot of qualities -not all of them good ones- but he didn't require Ishizu's Necklace to figure out that letting him get kids was Not A Good Idea.

Maybe once he'd matured a bit, say, in another forty-thousand years or so. Maybe.

Shadi sighed, rubbing his temples and not for the first time wishing that his job didn't come with the requirement that you had to dislike it. (Because, you know, if you allow someone who actually -enjoys- mucking around with reality and alternate dimensions and stuff like evolution to do so, things are bound to turn out as either a mess or a perfect ordered whole. Neither of which is a good thing.)

Wandering deeper into the Library, he absently noted that, finally, there had appeared some shelves for the books produced on the small planet called 'Earth' (really, some people had -no- originality. What had they been -thinking- when they picked that name, that all other planets consisted of non-earth?)

He found two more banana-peels on his way to the heart of the Library, which did little to worsen his mood. (After some point, Shadi had discovered, he simply couldn't feel any more tired, exhausted and fed up with semi-intelligent mammals. Which wasn't much of a comfort.)

As he reached his destination, the first thing he noticed was that there was a piece of paper laying on a table. (This was unusual, since Shadi never used things like notes. He felt they were too chaotic and made his office look messy. He believed that if something was Really Important, you'd remember it automatically. And if you didn't, well, there'd always be a parallel universe in which another you -would-, so no worries, eh?)

There was also a notable absence, the sensation that someone was doing his very best -not- to be there. Shadi chose to ignore that for the moment, instead opting to read the paper. It was, as he'd feared, an official document to inform him of the granting of his request for some help in creating some semblance of order to the Library of Invisible Writings (1) (which was actually a rather silly name, since -obviously- something that was in a book was very much visible, at least to the person reading the book. But, as so often happens, Tradition had won out over Practicality and Common Sense).

He'd agonized for ages over sending it. After all, last time he'd asked for help, people had gotten their souls stolen and a small universe had nearly been destroyed by the forces of darkness. Worse, he'd had to interrupt his well-earned vacation to set things straight again. As if anyone would have -missed- that particular reality! (Shadi had to admit that some of its inhabitants had had a certain charm, but any reality that created individuals like Seto Kaiba and Pegasus J. Crawford had some serious problems.)

Shadi sighed. He guessed he might as well make the best of it now. Placing some trashcans would decidedly ruin the interior, but it was still better than getting himself killed by a banana-peel. And maybe if he got a few years off, he could assist the librarian sufficiently to convince him (or her or it; you never knew in Shadi's line of work) to bugger off again.

Slightly cheered up at the prospect of sending his unwelcome guest packing, Shadi gazed around the room. ('Gazed', yes. Looking and searching was for ordinary people. Likewise, Shadi never 'walked' either; he 'strode'.) He saw books, books, books, something orange and fuzzy, books, books, and more books. It didn't take a genius to spot the odd-one-out.

"So ... I assume you're my temporal assisant-librarian," Shadi said, not rising to introduce himself.

"Ook!" was the acerbic reply. (At least, it sounded that way to Shadi.)

"Lucky me," Shadi muttered, burying his face in his hands. (Because some things can just get to you, and finding out you're going to have to put up with your most precious belongings being handled by an orang-outang for at least the next six months is one of them.)

"Ook," agreed the Librarian, offering his ungracious host half a banana in an unexpected burst of generosity.


(1) A library that contained all the books that could ever be written anywhere, any time. If, for example, Ryou Bakura would consider writing a novel about his exciting life as a nautiphilatelist (a person who collects stamps with seastuff on them), even for the tiniest part of a second, that novel would come into existence in the Library. And, we may assume, nowhere else.

A/N: If you made it this far, you're one tough cookie. Congratulations! Now go and read something that's actually good.