Fire cannot kill a dragon…

Fire cannot kill a dragon...

…but an elderly buttonmaking machine whose design elements are suspiciously suggestive of the 1970s can. The plastic hood that, if the warning label is to be believed, would have caused some horrible and warranty-voiding malfunction were it lifted under the wrong circumstances, had lost some bits during the storage process and no longer wanted to close under *any* circumstances.

The past night was our yearly lock-in party for the library’s youth volunteers, and we managed to hold aforementioned machine’s flimsy plastic hood on well enough that the kids were able to use it with my supervision. Yet somehow, once it came my turn to have some fun and make my own button, I managed to gum the thing up completely mid-button (that would be the dragon on the left).

Someone who’d been babysitting the old buttomaker longer than I have went to get our box-of-knives (everyone looks at me funny when I say that — it’s the circulation department’s little box of assorted scrapers, blades, and yes, knives, that we use for gooey, gummy, lumpy and otherwise recalcitrant objects that come through) and had the thing patched together again in short order. It was too late for my little Sharpie dragon by then, since he’d already been chopped, scrunched, and squished a bit too much around the edges, but I cobbled together a quick griffin with the wrong colors (keep in mind: We were all working by the glow of the security lights, and those blasted yellow markers always have another, darker color stained on the tip for the first few strokes) and started over. The button-izing part of the process worked out quite a lot better, and so now I have a griffin pin to … well, keep the poor crippled dragon company, I suppose.

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