Tim Merrigan
2004-08-22 23:01:52 UTC
"The time has come, the walrus said ...."
Frank looks around the empty office, drains the cup of coffee he was
drinking, and walks over to the sink; carefully washing up the
now-empty pot, saucer, cup, and spoon, before placing them up in the
cupboard where they belong.
He looks around the empty room at the now spotless desk, where once so
many stacks of papers and duties filled the in-basket. Now, there's
only one last duty to fulfill; and it's finally come to the point he
has to admit he'll have to do it. <Sigh.>
Closing and locking the almost empty file cabinet, he looks around for
any last thing out of place in either the private consultation room,
with it's small but comfortable chairs and tiny cot, the assistant's
private room, where only *she* knew what went on, but is also now bare
and spotless, to the main office, where so many seemingly urgent
conversations took place in days gone past. Nothing is out of place.
Gathering his bugle, which he's been practicing vainly for days, just
to get this one final duty right, he heads out the door to the main
Administration Building. The parking-lot is empty; even the
speed-bumps having mysteriously disappeared in the last few months.
Snaggles of weeds and crabgrass are already fighting for root-space in
the cracks of the asphalt and cement.
The flag still flaps bravely though; and Frank, for one last time,
stands and salutes it. Then, carefully unwinding the halyard, he
slowly lowers the flag to half-staff; then stands and puts the bugle
to his lips. The lonely sound of an inexpertly-played rendition of
"Taps" fills the air for over half a minute; a couple of cracked notes
being ignored by all except the wind; which momentarily whips the flag
into a fury of flapping, then stills.
Placing the bugle on the ground, Frank slowly lowers the flag the rest
of the way, and reverently folds the flag ... Twice lengthwise, then
corner-over-corner in a tight triangular fold, with the blue field
ending up neatly on the outside.
Picking up the bugle, he heads into the now empty edifice, where so
much business used to be conducted. He looks up at the birdstained
white granite with the proud words "Pedo University Administration"
that now seem empty and vain; then heads inside to finish his final
duties. The door, while not locked, for a moment resists his attempt
to enter, then finally opens with a grudging squeal
Inside, the once busy and bustling hallway, he looks down at the
stick-mosaic on the floor, once the pride of the University and
intended to last forever against the buy day-to-day wear of hurrying
staff and pattering bare feet, where the image of a small female
student sits forever in naked beauty on the lap of a University
Professor, her eyes wide with wonder as the man points down the hall;
obviously teaching the child about the beauties of the Universe.
Groucho had complained bitterly about the expense; but too many
donations had been received to keep the artwork from being installed.
Frank slowly walks past the rows and rows of glass cases where
trophies still sit in silent glory; proclaiming the prowess of past
generations of students. The volleyball team, the gymnastics' team,
the swim team ... each with pictures showing the student-bodies in
question at the peak of their performances and beauty. Again, he
sighs for past glories.
Finally Frank stops at the main administration area, walking past the
now-empty guards' desk, assistant's room, and on into the private
sanctorum where once Grouch presided, and then was taken over fairly
competently in the last few years while the University slowly
declined, by wildman. The place is a mess; looking as if it had been
ransacked twice by people looking for something ... Missing paychecks
perhaps? The safe sits wide-open, with only a receipt for tampons
from Kame-Apart inside. Tampons? Perhaps .... No.
Grabbing a loose paper-towel floating across the floor, Frank removes
the offending receipt, wipes out the inside of the safe, and places
both flag and bugle reverently inside. He then closes the safe door,
and pulls the handle shut ... but does not spin the dial to lock the
safe.
For a moment he stands looking around the office, almost automatically
picking up a few stray items of trash and dropping them into the
waste-container, before shaking himself and stopping the pointless
activity.
Heading back out, he then turns left instead of right, towards inner
offices instead of out the door, and down a big staircase to the
right, at the end of the hall. Two stories down, he opens a steel
door with crosshatched wire in the glass, and peers into the
boiler-room. A quiet but insistent hum fills the air with busy-ness.
Knowing that both swimming-pools have long been drained, there are
First, the water. It takes three tries to heave the enormous black
wheel into moving at all; and much straining for the five turns before
the water is turned off, but it's eventually accomplished. The Red
Wheel manning the fire-extinguishers separate line, he leaves alone.
Besides, it's locked-open by order of the Fire Department.
The gas-line is similarly shut off, with much less hassle.
Finally Frank faces the final task: One he's promised to do; but never
expected: An enormous red-handled switch in the box on the wall has a
clip in it that he first removes, then heaves the lever down with a
loud, "Clang!" The room goes dark; flickers with light for a second,
then goes dark again. The hum has stopped; and Frank can hear a faint
whine slowly descending in pitch before complete silence creeps in.
The only light in the basement now comes from the Emergency Lighting
System, with a faint glow saying, "EXIT" at the door where he entered.
Frank slips the pin back into the switch, now holding it locked open,
and heads for the fading light at the door; reaching it barely before
the Emergency Light flickers and then dies. Wildman always was a
little cheap about testing and replacing batteries. Oh well ... It
had served it's purpose, when needed.
A faint light seeps in from windows in the next floor up, as he climbs
wearily back up the stairs; his breath whistling as he finally makes
it to the top, past the now-empty offices of the PU Picayune, where in
glorious days past CR had held sway and out into the bright sun, where
for a moment he stood blinking, almost unable to see. He takes one
last, sad look around, to the left, past the now-open gates of the PU
zoo, where the animals had all been released months earlier, to the
Rec. Hall, Children's dorms, Classrooms, and other buildings that make
up a major campus. All quiet now, except for the wind whistling
between the buildings. Even the Fire-Department and Police Station
are now closed; the Cafeteria being closed several years earlier by
the Health Department; leaving Students and Faculty to subsist on
Pizza, beer, pop, milk, and such items as the PUb carried ... Not
exactly a small selection, at that.
In the other direction, the pile of beer cans and other refuse marks
the spot where Krazy held the last party; only missing burning down
the edifice because everybody in the celebration was too drunk to
remember the aim.
Frank's steps now echo hollowly as he makes his way back across the
empty parking-lot; empty that is, except for the ugly red Yugo that
was all he could afford on his nonexistent salary.
Looking inside the office for the last time, he flips the now-dead
switch down; keeping his promise for the last person to leave to turn
out the lights, but doesn't close the door. He looks sadly up at the
small sign proclaiming, "Family Counseling Office"; and resists once
again the temptation to straighten it or lock the place up. Let the
squirrels have the office. Perhaps some stray hobo might find refuge
there. Then Frank makes his way somewhat unsteadily to the waiting
Yugo, and climbs inside. If you didn't know the Counselor didn't
drink, you would assume he was completely sloshed ... and that SURELY
couldn't be tears streaming down the old man's face, blinding him?
It takes a minute or two before anything happens with the car; Frank
reaching in the back to grab a tissue so he can see, before starting
the old wreck up. Finally groans and a sputtering noise rise from the
engine compartment before dying quickly. This is repeated twice more,
before the cranky engine sputters to life in a blue cloud of smoke
that quickly dissipates.
A grinding whine, and then the battered old car makes it's way towards
the gates and the distant campus-exit down the drive separating the
University from Real Life. A faint rumble; and the car is gone; now
leaving only a dust-devil to imitate life, as the wind, rain, and
weather take over the campus for the final time. From somewhere a
bird chirps; and then even that is silent.
R.I.P. Pedo University.
No LEA, no Bible-Thumper, no anti-sex crusader was ever able to bring
you down, though many threatened to do so. Not a DA's wild crusade,
arrests, rabid wild Mexican Dogs, or service-providers dropping the
group could even slow you down in your crusade as a last-bastion of
free-speech on the Internet. No, only your own people finally losing
interest could bring you this low. <Sigh.>
A toast, to those who once cared about this Institution, and the
conversations that made this group such a bright and wonderfully weird
place to hang out!
Frank tosses the now-empty glass of apple-juice into the back seat;
still scrupulously anti-litter, as he motors off down the freeway.
"Thanks for the mammaries."
Thanks, I missed it too, I never contributed to the PU conversations,Frank looks around the empty office, drains the cup of coffee he was
drinking, and walks over to the sink; carefully washing up the
now-empty pot, saucer, cup, and spoon, before placing them up in the
cupboard where they belong.
He looks around the empty room at the now spotless desk, where once so
many stacks of papers and duties filled the in-basket. Now, there's
only one last duty to fulfill; and it's finally come to the point he
has to admit he'll have to do it. <Sigh.>
Closing and locking the almost empty file cabinet, he looks around for
any last thing out of place in either the private consultation room,
with it's small but comfortable chairs and tiny cot, the assistant's
private room, where only *she* knew what went on, but is also now bare
and spotless, to the main office, where so many seemingly urgent
conversations took place in days gone past. Nothing is out of place.
Gathering his bugle, which he's been practicing vainly for days, just
to get this one final duty right, he heads out the door to the main
Administration Building. The parking-lot is empty; even the
speed-bumps having mysteriously disappeared in the last few months.
Snaggles of weeds and crabgrass are already fighting for root-space in
the cracks of the asphalt and cement.
The flag still flaps bravely though; and Frank, for one last time,
stands and salutes it. Then, carefully unwinding the halyard, he
slowly lowers the flag to half-staff; then stands and puts the bugle
to his lips. The lonely sound of an inexpertly-played rendition of
"Taps" fills the air for over half a minute; a couple of cracked notes
being ignored by all except the wind; which momentarily whips the flag
into a fury of flapping, then stills.
Placing the bugle on the ground, Frank slowly lowers the flag the rest
of the way, and reverently folds the flag ... Twice lengthwise, then
corner-over-corner in a tight triangular fold, with the blue field
ending up neatly on the outside.
Picking up the bugle, he heads into the now empty edifice, where so
much business used to be conducted. He looks up at the birdstained
white granite with the proud words "Pedo University Administration"
that now seem empty and vain; then heads inside to finish his final
duties. The door, while not locked, for a moment resists his attempt
to enter, then finally opens with a grudging squeal
Inside, the once busy and bustling hallway, he looks down at the
stick-mosaic on the floor, once the pride of the University and
intended to last forever against the buy day-to-day wear of hurrying
staff and pattering bare feet, where the image of a small female
student sits forever in naked beauty on the lap of a University
Professor, her eyes wide with wonder as the man points down the hall;
obviously teaching the child about the beauties of the Universe.
Groucho had complained bitterly about the expense; but too many
donations had been received to keep the artwork from being installed.
Frank slowly walks past the rows and rows of glass cases where
trophies still sit in silent glory; proclaiming the prowess of past
generations of students. The volleyball team, the gymnastics' team,
the swim team ... each with pictures showing the student-bodies in
question at the peak of their performances and beauty. Again, he
sighs for past glories.
Finally Frank stops at the main administration area, walking past the
now-empty guards' desk, assistant's room, and on into the private
sanctorum where once Grouch presided, and then was taken over fairly
competently in the last few years while the University slowly
declined, by wildman. The place is a mess; looking as if it had been
ransacked twice by people looking for something ... Missing paychecks
perhaps? The safe sits wide-open, with only a receipt for tampons
from Kame-Apart inside. Tampons? Perhaps .... No.
Grabbing a loose paper-towel floating across the floor, Frank removes
the offending receipt, wipes out the inside of the safe, and places
both flag and bugle reverently inside. He then closes the safe door,
and pulls the handle shut ... but does not spin the dial to lock the
safe.
For a moment he stands looking around the office, almost automatically
picking up a few stray items of trash and dropping them into the
waste-container, before shaking himself and stopping the pointless
activity.
Heading back out, he then turns left instead of right, towards inner
offices instead of out the door, and down a big staircase to the
right, at the end of the hall. Two stories down, he opens a steel
door with crosshatched wire in the glass, and peers into the
boiler-room. A quiet but insistent hum fills the air with busy-ness.
Knowing that both swimming-pools have long been drained, there are
First, the water. It takes three tries to heave the enormous black
wheel into moving at all; and much straining for the five turns before
the water is turned off, but it's eventually accomplished. The Red
Wheel manning the fire-extinguishers separate line, he leaves alone.
Besides, it's locked-open by order of the Fire Department.
The gas-line is similarly shut off, with much less hassle.
Finally Frank faces the final task: One he's promised to do; but never
expected: An enormous red-handled switch in the box on the wall has a
clip in it that he first removes, then heaves the lever down with a
loud, "Clang!" The room goes dark; flickers with light for a second,
then goes dark again. The hum has stopped; and Frank can hear a faint
whine slowly descending in pitch before complete silence creeps in.
The only light in the basement now comes from the Emergency Lighting
System, with a faint glow saying, "EXIT" at the door where he entered.
Frank slips the pin back into the switch, now holding it locked open,
and heads for the fading light at the door; reaching it barely before
the Emergency Light flickers and then dies. Wildman always was a
little cheap about testing and replacing batteries. Oh well ... It
had served it's purpose, when needed.
A faint light seeps in from windows in the next floor up, as he climbs
wearily back up the stairs; his breath whistling as he finally makes
it to the top, past the now-empty offices of the PU Picayune, where in
glorious days past CR had held sway and out into the bright sun, where
for a moment he stood blinking, almost unable to see. He takes one
last, sad look around, to the left, past the now-open gates of the PU
zoo, where the animals had all been released months earlier, to the
Rec. Hall, Children's dorms, Classrooms, and other buildings that make
up a major campus. All quiet now, except for the wind whistling
between the buildings. Even the Fire-Department and Police Station
are now closed; the Cafeteria being closed several years earlier by
the Health Department; leaving Students and Faculty to subsist on
Pizza, beer, pop, milk, and such items as the PUb carried ... Not
exactly a small selection, at that.
In the other direction, the pile of beer cans and other refuse marks
the spot where Krazy held the last party; only missing burning down
the edifice because everybody in the celebration was too drunk to
remember the aim.
Frank's steps now echo hollowly as he makes his way back across the
empty parking-lot; empty that is, except for the ugly red Yugo that
was all he could afford on his nonexistent salary.
Looking inside the office for the last time, he flips the now-dead
switch down; keeping his promise for the last person to leave to turn
out the lights, but doesn't close the door. He looks sadly up at the
small sign proclaiming, "Family Counseling Office"; and resists once
again the temptation to straighten it or lock the place up. Let the
squirrels have the office. Perhaps some stray hobo might find refuge
there. Then Frank makes his way somewhat unsteadily to the waiting
Yugo, and climbs inside. If you didn't know the Counselor didn't
drink, you would assume he was completely sloshed ... and that SURELY
couldn't be tears streaming down the old man's face, blinding him?
It takes a minute or two before anything happens with the car; Frank
reaching in the back to grab a tissue so he can see, before starting
the old wreck up. Finally groans and a sputtering noise rise from the
engine compartment before dying quickly. This is repeated twice more,
before the cranky engine sputters to life in a blue cloud of smoke
that quickly dissipates.
A grinding whine, and then the battered old car makes it's way towards
the gates and the distant campus-exit down the drive separating the
University from Real Life. A faint rumble; and the car is gone; now
leaving only a dust-devil to imitate life, as the wind, rain, and
weather take over the campus for the final time. From somewhere a
bird chirps; and then even that is silent.
R.I.P. Pedo University.
No LEA, no Bible-Thumper, no anti-sex crusader was ever able to bring
you down, though many threatened to do so. Not a DA's wild crusade,
arrests, rabid wild Mexican Dogs, or service-providers dropping the
group could even slow you down in your crusade as a last-bastion of
free-speech on the Internet. No, only your own people finally losing
interest could bring you this low. <Sigh.>
A toast, to those who once cared about this Institution, and the
conversations that made this group such a bright and wonderfully weird
place to hang out!
Frank tosses the now-empty glass of apple-juice into the back seat;
still scrupulously anti-litter, as he motors off down the freeway.
"Thanks for the mammaries."
but I did lurk there for a while, and now that it's gone, I miss it and
might even comment occasionally were it still there.
--
I pledge allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America,
and to the republic which it established, one nation, from many peoples,
promising liberty and justice for all.
Feel free to use the above variant pledge in your own postings.
Tim Merrigan
Yahoo Messenger: Tim_Merrigan_54
AIM: tppm1
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