A loud, maniacal cry punctured the library’s air of calm and quiet, splintering silence into a myriad of broken pieces.

Oh dear, Ms Davis thought to herself, he’s back again.

“What’s going on?”
“Who was that?”
“I think we’d better go, we’ll never be able to concentrate here.”

Whispers flashed from every corner as Ms Davis trotted hurriedly toward Section 245-312, where she knew he’d be.

Against the bookshelf he sat, tearing page after page out of a thick volume. Upon noticing her, he began cackling.

“Plutarch again!” Ms Davis whined, dismayed. “That was a brand new copy! What do you have against him? Or is it his subject, Julius Caesar?”

The hysterical laughing continued.

“Look, I’m reporting you to the sheriff, and if you don’t leave now he’ll lock you up as a public nuisance.”

Silence. He stood up, brandishing the book. “He’s the nuisance! Caesar, Napoleon… We don’t need another hero to imitate. How many lives-”

She was already on the phone. “Sheriff? Yes a third offence. He needs treatment.”