The doors of Oakwood Public Library swung open with the fanfare of a grand unveiling—at least, that’s how Marcy, the library director, had envisioned it. She had spent weeks planning the grand reopening, complete with a ribbon-cutting ceremony, speeches, free bookmarks, and a local choir to serenade the crowd with library-themed songs. She was sure it would be the talk of the town.

The only thing Marcy hadn’t planned for was everything else.

It began with the ribbons. As Marcy, clutching a comically large pair of scissors, prepared to cut the ceremonial ribbon, the overly eager assistant librarian, Greg, made a mad dash to pull the decorative bow out of the way. Unfortunately, his timing was slightly off. He yanked the wrong ribbon, sending a cascade of balloons—tied to the archway—straight into the air and tangling themselves in the overhead ceiling fan.

The crowd gasped, but Marcy, ever the professional, smiled through gritted teeth. “Well, this is... part of the charm!” she said, attempting to cut the ribbon again.

Unfortunately, the scissors weren’t sharp enough, and instead of slicing through the ribbon, they slipped, cutting a perfectly round hole in her brand-new library-themed cake. The cake had been meant for the guests to enjoy after the ceremony, but now it was an unrecognizable mess of frosting and crumbs.

“Ugh, I think I need a break,” she muttered.

But things were just getting started.

The choir had arrived, ready to perform the “Song of Dewey Decimal” with carefully choreographed moves. It was going great—until the power went out. The room went silent. The backup generator kicked in... but the lights flickered, then went out again. The choir’s director, Linda, panicked and began leading them in what could only be described as an impromptu a cappella version of “Happy Birthday.”

And then there was the new high-tech checkout system. Marcy had splurged on a cutting-edge machine that promised to revolutionize the library’s checkout process. It had, of course, promptly broken down. It started making strange beeping noises, flashing warning signs, and then—without warning—spitting out a single shredded receipt.

A kid from the audience, clearly amused, took the opportunity to loudly announce, “I think it’s broken!”

The crowd erupted into laughter.

Marcy, standing in the middle of it all—her hair slightly askew from the balloon incident, a chunk of cake stuck to her shoe, and the choir still singing Happy Birthday in the background—put on her best “I’ve got this” smile.

“Well, at least it’s memorable, right?” she said, raising her hand to give the best applause she could muster.

A voice from the back of the room called out, “You should make this an annual event!”

Marcy chuckled. “Maybe not the disaster part, but sure!”

The crowd, now thoroughly entertained by the spectacle, applauded with enthusiasm.

As Marcy surveyed the scene—balloons still caught in the fan, cake wrecked, checkout system malfunctioning—she had a sudden, profound realization:

Maybe next year, she'd just go for a simple book reading.