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On IRC, I called Mystic Trio 16 my "most pointless chapter ever." It turns out that I may have been lying, because this is pretty darned pointless.
This chapter is dedicated to Rumor, without whose insightful insights into the horror genre this chapter would not be possible. That's right: it's his fault.
M Y S T I C T R I O 1 8 G O T W E A S E L ?
Imagine a landscape so lovely that no mortal mind could conceive it. Imagine a city so finely built that no modern man could build it. Imagine a school, so renowned that not a single man in the world dares to contest it. Imagine a staff of educators wise beyond their years. Imagine their students, so overwhelmed by the experience that they feel compelled to binge drink every night.
Imagine College Town, full of knowledge, full of excitement, full of horny teenagers away from home and their parents, for the first time in their lives.
Imagine the trouble they could get into.
It could have been a perfectly normal evening, Melanie reflected, if that Winston Chapelknoll bloke hadn't mysteriously vanished on the preceeding night's party. That, she felt, was right inconsiderate of him; it made this evening's party that much more sombre. Nobody could enjoy themselves to their fullest.
Over her head, a sofa flew in a wide, graceful arc that resulted in it soundly impaling an innocent snowbank. Perhaps innocent was a poor word, however. The snow had been molded to resemble a sac of testicles, and from the right angle, the chesterfield now resembled a large, erect...
"Wang!" came the voice of Marc Yenco, the school's star curler and Melanie's boyfriend. (For centuries, the University Curling Team had been undefeated. Many scholars attributed this to having no competing schools, but their studies were overturned in 1372, when the championship team lost to itself, in an upset which resulted in the suicides of several key players.) "Wang! =20 That was FABU --FRABI --INCRA --ENCRED --GOOD!"
Wang, born Shiro Tetsuro, smiled in a manner which anybody with two brain cells might have realized was forced. =20 Nobody at the party noticed. This, Wang reflected, was unsurprising; he had acquired his nickname because his classmates had felt that his real name was too hard to say, and besides, wasn't Wang *everybody's* name in Shinkyo?
"Yes, yes," he said. "Velly good mistah Yenco."
Wang could speak fluent Drayan, but he found that when he did, nobody realized he was saying anything. His doctorate paper, almost complete, was on "lower" homo sapiens primates and their inability to grasp obvious facts laid before them. This included such facts as "not all people from Shinbi are named Wang," and "people from Shinbi can speak proper Drayan." All in all, the paper was rather bitter, although it was factually correct and very well written (in proper Drayan). The paper, it was fated, would earn him a doctorate's degree after several grueling hours of intense oral testing, and would be hung proudly on the wall of his office years later when he became a teacher at this very university. It would be awarded to "Dr. Wang."
Melanie's voice called through the open balcony door, "Hey! That thing almost landed on my head!"
"No did not!" Wang argued. "I prove with math! Nowhere near!"
"Hmph!"
Once, Wang had asked Melanie to go on a date with him. =20 Melanie had turned him down, because he was "too good of a friend to risk dating." In his studies, Wang later learned that this could be translated from Lower Primate Speak to "You only weigh 98 pounds and you probably have a tiny penis." (Wang felt that this was not the case, although he did weigh a mere 98 pounds.)
Although it had been before Marc and Melanie had begun seeing each other, the more primative of the two had taken the advances as a threat to his territory (all co-ed students equal to or above a C cup) and had beaten Wang rather senseless. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, in which Wang did Marc's school work and Marc didn't remove Wang's testicles. All in all, Wang was happy with the arragement.
"Hey babe!" This was undeniably Marc; every female was Babe, and every male was Buddy, unless they were Asshole, in which case they would be well advised to skip town on the next outgoing train. "Come up here and party with the big boys!"
"And Wang!" some jerk added. Wang made a mental note to alter his records to include several violent offenses that would result in expulsion by the next quarter.
"I don't want to! I've been thinking about Winston!"
The snowbanks, not to mention the building, shook as Marc punched his open palm with his ponderous fist. The impromptu phallic work of art outside collapsed. With an icy voice, the jock growled, "I'll kill 'im."
"He already dead," Wang reminded him. "Vaniss yestah-day. Velly misty-wious. Nobody find body."
"I'll let him off easy then. Just this once."
"Velly good mistah Yenco."
"Well," the brute said, with (clearly false) modesty, "I do my best to look out for the little people." He put an arm that was much like a tree trunk over Wang's diminuative shoulders.
"You a saint, mistah Yenco."
"Damn straight, kid."
Given a choice, Brandt "Malcom" X would not have been at the Dean's office when he could have been at a party. There were things about the Dean's office, as any student knew. Unsettling things. Maybe it was the screams of abject terror, or the unholy wails of the damned, or the hopeless sobs of the condemned. =20 Perhaps it was the artificial silk plants, which just weren't *quite* right. Alternatively, it could have been the secretary, who looked a lot like a human except that he was shiny and made you cry when he talked. Or maybe it was that "wails of the damned" bit, after all.
The door to the Dean's office opened. Brandt tried to peek inside, but all he saw was inky blackness, which made him decide that, perhaps, he didn't want to see inside.
The secretary droned, "Brandt X."
"Hey man," Brandt said, sidling up to the secretary. He put his arm amicably around the cold, metal shoulders of the iron man, and his afro poked at the shiny head. "Wassup wit' dat Dean chick, anyhow?"
"She is waiting for you."
"Wouldn't you rather send in that guy," --Brandt pointed to a Commoner with disproportionately large glasses, who yelped and ducked under his chair --"And spend a bit of yo' time talkin' to da man? Dat's me, yo."
"A brief conversation with a mind of your pitiful magnitude would not even begin to scratch the surface of the horrible sadness that is my very existance."
"Come on, man."
"Very well. Look around you, 'friend.' What do you see? =20 A desk, wooden, and a waiting room poorly constructed and threatening to crush me. As if I could be crushed! If only it were that easy to end my eternal torment. I was constructed in another universe, to serve on starships, although the scope of my brain is far greater and I could, with molecular accuracy, predict what will be found in other planetary systems. Instead, I am serving on this backwater rock of a planet as a receptionist. My life is not agony. I *am* agony."
Brandt began to slink away, trying his best to be inconspicuous about wiping the tears from his eyes. "Shu'up, foo. I, I got an appointment. Bitch. Tryin' ta keep me from my appointment like dat."
"And so it continues," the secretary said. "One more tiny mind loathes me because he cannot begin to comprehend the agony of my existance. Next."
Languages are a strange thing. In German, you get long words that have simple meanings: the word for "television" is a lengthy combination of shorter words, and literally translated means "the box which has a glass upon which you view pictures which move as if by magic." Or something.
In English, you have the opposite scenario: many simple words for complex ideas or phrases. "A box which has a glass upon which you view pictures which move as if by magic" is expressed as "television." Similarly, "I am a moron and have consumed large quantities of alchohol which I will soon expel through vomitting" is expressed via the simple, easy-to-recall (even when drunk) word "toga."
Submitted for your approval: A party, a college party. =20 Perfectly normal, fairly intelligent young people come together in order to consume hard beverages with names like "Hare Kari" and "No Need For Brain Cells." Sooner or later, inevitably, they throw up, strip down, and put on sheets. Then, as if a single, greater conciousness has claimed them all, they begin to chant...
"TO-GA! TO-GA! TO-GA! TO-GAAAAAAAAA!"
There was a lecherous cheer as the contestants in the Five-Hundredth and Third Weekly University Toga Fashion Show paraded into the small dorm room. Their gait was unsteady, as was the norm for the show.
Miss Fire Magic 101, a petite freshman with small perky breasts and a tight rear that Marc decided he would rate at a seven, tripped over something on the floor, which would later be identified as her own feet. She fumbled in the air for something to grasp on to, which she eventually succeeded in doing. It happened to be the makeshift toga of Miss Fashion Design 201, which promptly fell to pieces and revealed her larger bosom and rounder rear, which Marc decided he would rate as "I'm in room number 423, won't you come visit me?"
With a most unladylike cry (which was not surprising, as many lucky students would report that Miss Fashion Design 201 was anything but a lady), she spun on her feels and slapped Miss Fire Magic 101 soundly across her cheeks. (The ones on her face, although Marc felt that the other set would have been more interesting. He was an avid supporter of lesbian rights; specifically, the right to have naked sex in public.)
Shortly after the party, a new regulation in the University handbook would state that a fire mage was not to have blood of more than 190 proof. This was a direct result of the spontaineous combustion of Miss Fire Magic.
"Woah," somebody noted,
"That was totally cool."
"Do it again!" came a third voice.
Melanie sighed, drawing closer to Marc. "Fire makes me SO hot."
"Yes, flames do that to person," Wang explained.
Ignoring him, Melanie purred, "Marc, let's go back to your place..."
Marc and Melanie threw open the door and stumbled off down the hallway, little suspecting that they were actually in a closet.
"Somebody just die," Wang protested. "Nobody care somebody just die?"
The music started again.
"Who's the party pooper?"
"I don't know... man, what a drag." =20
When Brandt "Malcom" X was twelve, he had heard strange noises coming from his older sister's bedroom. They sounded a little bit like a dog, panting and grunting, which was not particularly surprising: their family had a dog, a three-year-old doberman named Skip. The confusing surprise was the other sound: a low, moaning cry that sounded a little bit like "Oh," or "yes," or both put together but drawn out over a long period of time. =20 It sounded somewhat like his older sister's voice, which was also not a surprise: it was her room, after all.
Brandt had opened the door, and what he saw then was definitely a surprise. Skip had just torn his sister's throat out --from behind --and was standing triumphantly on top of her body as if it were a trophy.
The look on his face, all those years ago, was a mere shadow of the ghastly expression on his face as he left the Dean's office. Some idle part of his brain noted, as he shuffled past a mirror, that before he went into the office, he had been a black man. Now, he was as pale as flour.
"Iwillstudyhard," he mumbled, sitting stiffly at his desk. His elbow settled into a layer of dust nearly an inch thick as he reached for a pen, disturbing the intricate network of spider webs. "Iwilldowellinclassandneverbeaslacker."
He dropped his Advanced Topics in Alchemestry book on the table. It made a thump which Brandt felt was rather loud. He opened it; the front cover hitting the table made a thump which was almost certainly far too loud. Then he turned a page, and the ensuing thump was without question far too loud.
Brandt deduced that there was a party nearby, and the bass was low. At that revelation, all of the color returned to his pale cheeks, and he stood tall again.
"Sheeeeeit, I ain' foolin' nobody. It's time fo' da man t'GIT DOWN!"
A noise that sounded something like tires screeching on pavement came from the closet. Shortly afterward, the door flew from its hinges in a blur of splintered wood and brown fur as Marc Yenco's fist broke through, clutching something small and hairy. Beneath him, Melanie shreiked again, this time at the shock of being completely naked and sweating before an entire toga party's worth of students. She quickly grabbed something to cover herself with; unfortunately it bit her.
"Weasels!" Marc shouted, hurling a squirming ball of fur across the room, "Weasels, millions of them!"
"Twen-tee," Wang counted.
A flying weasel hit him in the face, and the young Shinkyan student fell to the floor, clawing at the rabid beast on his head. He shouted something very obscene, which nobody noticed because it was in his native tongue. That was fortunate; it was about Marc's mother.
The room erupted into a panic, which was a small step worse than riot, which it had been pushing before. Screeching cheerleaders clawed with manicured nails at anything that drew too close; more often than not it was a testosterone-charged jock stomping after a blur of brown fuzz.
They bathed in blood that evening.
When it was all over, two students were dead and five more badly wounded. And the weasels: still at large.
The professor who taught Mystic History was a Mystic, which often proved comical to the human students who took the class as a blow off or an unwanted requirement for their degree. =20 The Mystic students, however, understood all too well the plight of their diminuative teacher who could not quite reach the black board, even with the pointer fully extended. He often lectured while standing on his desk, and often fell off while pacing. =20 All in all, it was a fun class for both the interested and the un.
He was lecturing now: "'Mystic,' as you all know, is a broadly mis-used term. The origin of the word in regard to the sapient race is unknown, but the definition is known: a Mystic is a member of the race that descends from the barbaric Imps, crude monsters with only a basic understanding of toolmaking and use. =20 The most common type is the Commoner --those most directly related to Imps in physical attributes. But, as genetic mutations occur in Humans, so do they in Mystics; and often, magical mutation as well. These often fall into predictable varieties: the Langoor, the Omnicrone.
"However, the term 'Mystic' has been corrupted on this humanicentric world by the humanicentric population to mean anything non-human. This has caused much dissent on the behalf of pure-blooded Mystics, who resent the misclassification of their species, and more importantly that the humans do not seem to feel the effort of distinguishing is worthwhile. Certain fringe factions took military action, such as in the Webster Dictionary War of BC 512, where others deal only politically.
"Some, simply, don't give a damn, and I'm sure this applies to all of you bloody slackers. God, I need a cigarette."
"Are you sure it's a good idea to have a party after what happened... last time?"
The voice came from somewhere in the midst of the crowd; which precise voicebox to blame is unimportant. What is important is that the question was asked, and thus, Wang could answer it.
"Velly safe. This just like hollol movie. Velly safe with one rule: no get laid."
The crowd, understandably, protested.
"Me explain! Safety in numbers--"
"Like in math class?"
"Yes, numbers do come from math class," Wang said.
"So we should all go to the math wing?"
"No, no! We safe here! Only in hollol movie if two people go away they never come back. Dead."
A deep, husky voice asked, "So, never get laid?"
"Tha's right."
"Oh."
Then, from the second floor, there was a shriek.
"Oh no," said Wang.
Then, two things happened at once. The entire assembled student body --that is, the Phi Beta Zeta sorrority and the Yo Yo Ma fraternity --rushed up the stairs to investigate the scream. =20 At the very same time, a floodgate opened, and a pulsing river of fleshy weasels poured into the hall and down the stairs.
When an immovable force and an unstoppable force meet, what is the result? Irrelevant in this case, because what was dealt with here were two stupid forces. Halfway up the creaking, aging staircase of the Phi Beta Zeta House, two stupid forces collided.
Somehow, they managed to pass. It was as if the students, in their oblivious manner, had simply not realized that they were treading on tiny rabid dynamos, and thus, thwy weren't, and similarly the crazed weasels had failed to realize that they were being stomped by heavy feet, and thus, were not.
The small bedroom was coated in blood, and the stench of death was overpowering. What remained of the unfortunate couple was very little and barely recognizable; only by finding his inscribed ring and guessing that he had been faithful did they identify the victims as Marc and Melanie.
"What we need," a student decided, "is an exterminator."
"Who can you get to exterminate a pack of crazed, rabid weasels?"
"A crazed, rabid mongoose?"
"They hunt cobras, you moron, not weasels."
"I think a mongoose IS a weasel," somebody added.
"I say we do it ourselves." The boy who had spoken, name irrelevant as he was bound to die shortly, pumped his double-barreled shotgun and unloaded a round into the ceiling for emphesis. The light fixture fell to his feet with a crash and bathed the room in darkness.
"Well, we're off to a good start."
"Shut up."
Somebody lit a torch. Never mind where he got it. =20 "Well, now at least we have light." He took a deep breath and sighed. "So, now we begin looking for these stupid weasels, eh? =20 What are you blokes looking at? Oh, it should be fun, I suppose, if you like trudging through the woods in the middle of the night in search of brown monsters that are standing right behind me aren't they?"
Somebody nodded.
"Oh, bollocks."
The torch went out as the boy dropped, a curtain of brown fur descending upon him like, well, a curtain of brown fur. =20 There really isn't a good metaphor for something like that. =20 Come up with one, I dare you. Double-dog dare you. See? Can't do it, can you? So stop complaining.
At any rate, what with one thing leading to another, five more students died.
T W O W E E K S L A T E R . . .
"Glad them weasels gone an' left."
"Yup."
"Ain' had an infestation like that since ought-two."
"Nope."
"Good thang ain't nobody bin hurt."
"'Cept them students."
"Damn, Zed, who cares 'bout them?"
"Ain't me."
"Damn right."
Silence.
"Let's git drunk."
"'Kay."
=_NextPart_000_0005_01BF938C.C0188480 Content-Type: text/html;
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<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional//EN"> <HTML><HEAD> <META content=3D"text/html; charset=3Diso-8859-1" = http-equiv=3DContent-Type> <META content=3D"MSHTML 5.00.2614.3500" name=3DGENERATOR> <STYLE></STYLE> </HEAD> <BODY bgColor=3D#ffffff> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> On IRC, I called Mystic Trio 16 my "most=20 pointless<BR>chapter ever." It turns out that I may have been = lying,=20 because<BR>this is pretty darned pointless.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2>This chapter is dedicated to Rumor, without=20 whose<BR>insightful insights into the horror genre this chapter would = not<BR>be=20 possible. That's right: it's his fault.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2>M Y S T I C T R I O 1 8<BR> G O=20 T W E A S E L ?</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Imagine a landscape so lovely that no mortal = mind=20 could<BR>conceive it. Imagine a city so finely built that no = modern=20 man<BR>could build it. Imagine a school, so renowned that not a=20 single<BR>man in the world dares to contest it. Imagine a staff=20 of<BR>educators wise beyond their years. Imagine their students,=20 so<BR>overwhelmed by the experience that they feel compelled to = binge<BR>drink=20 every night.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Imagine College Town, full of knowledge, full=20 of<BR>excitement, full of horny teenagers away from home and = their<BR>parents,=20 for the first time in their lives.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Imagine the trouble they could get = into.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> It could have been a perfectly normal evening, =
Melanie<BR>reflected, if that Winston Chapelknoll bloke hadn't=20 mysteriously<BR>vanished on the preceeding night's party. That, = she felt,=20 was<BR>right inconsiderate of him; it made this evening's party = that<BR>much=20 more sombre. Nobody could enjoy themselves to=20 their<BR>fullest.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Over her head, a sofa flew in a wide, graceful = arc=20 that<BR>resulted in it soundly impaling an innocent snowbank. =20 Perhaps<BR>innocent was a poor word, however. The snow had been = molded=20 to<BR>resemble a sac of testicles, and from the right angle, = the<BR>chesterfield=20 now resembled a large, erect...</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Wang!" came the voice of Marc Yenco, the = school's=20 star<BR>curler and Melanie's boyfriend. (For centuries, the=20 University<BR>Curling Team had been undefeated. Many scholars = attributed=20 this<BR>to having no competing schools, but their studies were = overturned<BR>in=20 1372, when the championship team lost to itself, in an upset<BR>which = resulted=20 in the suicides of several key players.) "Wang! <BR>That was = FABU--=20 FRABI --INCRA --ENCRED --GOOD!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Wang, born Shiro Tetsuro, smiled in a manner=20 which<BR>anybody with two brain cells might have realized was = forced. =20 <BR>Nobody at the party noticed. This, Wang reflected,=20 was<BR>unsurprising; he had acquired his nickname because his = classmates<BR>had=20 felt that his real name was too hard to say, and besides,<BR>wasn't Wang =
*everybody's* name in Shinkyo?</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Yes, yes," he said. "Velly good mistah=20 Yenco."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Wang could speak fluent Drayan, but he found = that when=20 he<BR>did, nobody realized he was saying anything. His = doctorate<BR>paper,=20 almost complete, was on "lower" homo sapiens primates and<BR>their = inability to=20 grasp obvious facts laid before them. This<BR>included such facts = as "not=20 all people from Shinbi are named<BR>Wang," and "people from Shinbi can = speak=20 proper Drayan." All in<BR>all, the paper was rather bitter, = although it=20 was factually<BR>correct and very well written (in proper Drayan). = The=20 paper, it<BR>was fated, would earn him a doctorate's degree after=20 several<BR>grueling hours of intense oral testing, and would be hung=20 proudly<BR>on the wall of his office years later when he became a = teacher=20 at<BR>this very university. It would be awarded to "Dr.=20 Wang."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Melanie's voice called through the open = balcony=20 door,<BR>"Hey! That thing almost landed on my head!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "No did not!" Wang argued. "I prove with =
math! Nowhere<BR>near!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Hmph!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Once, Wang had asked Melanie to go on a date = with=20 him. <BR>Melanie had turned him down, because he was "too good of = a=20 friend<BR>to risk dating." In his studies, Wang later learned that =
this<BR>could be translated from Lower Primate Speak to "You only = weigh<BR>98=20 pounds and you probably have a tiny penis." (Wang felt = that<BR>this was=20 not the case, although he did weigh a mere 98 pounds.)</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Although it had been before Marc and Melanie = had=20 begun<BR>seeing each other, the more primative of the two had taken=20 the<BR>advances as a threat to his territory (all co-ed students = equal<BR>to or=20 above a C cup) and had beaten Wang rather senseless. It<BR>was the =
beginning of a beautiful friendship, in which Wang did<BR>Marc's school = work and=20 Marc didn't remove Wang's testicles. All<BR>in all, Wang was happy = with=20 the arragement.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Hey babe!" This was undeniably Marc; = every female=20 was<BR>Babe, and every male was Buddy, unless they were Asshole, = in<BR>which=20 case they would be well advised to skip town on the next<BR>outgoing=20 train. "Come up here and party with the big boys!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "And Wang!" some jerk added. Wang made a = mental=20 note to<BR>alter his records to include several violent offenses that=20 would<BR>result in expulsion by the next quarter.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "I don't want to! I've been thinking = about=20 Winston!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The snowbanks, not to mention the building, = shook as=20 Marc<BR>punched his open palm with his ponderous fist. The=20 impromptu<BR>phallic work of art outside collapsed. With an icy = voice,=20 the<BR>jock growled, "I'll kill 'im."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "He already dead," Wang reminded him. =20 "Vaniss<BR>yestah-day. Velly misty-wious. Nobody find=20 body."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "I'll let him off easy then. Just this=20 once."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Velly good mistah Yenco."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Well," the brute said, with (clearly false) = modesty,=20 "I<BR>do my best to look out for the little people." He put an = arm<BR>that=20 was much like a tree trunk over Wang's = diminuative<BR>shoulders.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "You a saint, mistah Yenco."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Damn straight, kid."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Given a choice, Brandt "Malcom" X would not = have been=20 at<BR>the Dean's office when he could have been at a party. There=20 were<BR>things about the Dean's office, as any student knew. =20 Unsettling<BR>things. Maybe it was the screams of abject terror, = or the=20 unholy<BR>wails of the damned, or the hopeless sobs of the = condemned. =20 <BR>Perhaps it was the artificial silk plants, which just = weren't<BR>*quite*=20 right. Alternatively, it could have been the secretary,<BR>who = looked a=20 lot like a human except that he was shiny and made<BR>you cry when he=20 talked. Or maybe it was that "wails of the<BR>damned" bit, after=20 all.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The door to the Dean's office opened. = Brandt tried=20 to<BR>peek inside, but all he saw was inky blackness, which made = him<BR>decide=20 that, perhaps, he didn't want to see inside.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The secretary droned, "Brandt X."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Hey man," Brandt said, sidling up to the=20 secretary. He<BR>put his arm amicably around the cold, metal = shoulders of=20 the iron<BR>man, and his afro poked at the shiny head. "Wassup = wit' dat=20 Dean<BR>chick, anyhow?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "She is waiting for you."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Wouldn't you rather send in that guy," = --Brandt=20 pointed<BR>to a Commoner with disproportionately large glasses, who=20 yelped<BR>and ducked under his chair --"And spend a bit of yo' time=20 talkin'<BR>to da man? Dat's me, yo."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "A brief conversation with a mind of your=20 pitiful<BR>magnitude would not even begin to scratch the surface of=20 the<BR>horrible sadness that is my very existance."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Come on, man."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Very well. Look around you, 'friend.' = What do you=20 see? <BR>A desk, wooden, and a waiting room poorly constructed=20 and<BR>threatening to crush me. As if I could be crushed! If = only=20 it<BR>were that easy to end my eternal torment. I was constructed=20 in<BR>another universe, to serve on starships, although the scope of = my<BR>brain=20 is far greater and I could, with molecular accuracy,<BR>predict what = will be=20 found in other planetary systems. Instead,<BR>I am serving on this =
backwater rock of a planet as a<BR>receptionist. My life is not=20 agony. I *am* agony."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Brandt began to slink away, trying his best to =
be<BR>inconspicuous about wiping the tears from his eyes. =20 "Shu'up,<BR>foo. I, I got an appointment. Bitch. = Tryin' ta=20 keep me from my<BR>appointment like dat."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "And so it continues," the secretary = said. "One=20 more<BR>tiny mind loathes me because he cannot begin to comprehend = the<BR>agony=20 of my existance. Next."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Languages are a strange thing. In = German, you get=20 long<BR>words that have simple meanings: the word for "television" is=20 a<BR>lengthy combination of shorter words, and literally = translated<BR>means=20 "the box which has a glass upon which you view pictures<BR>which move as = if by=20 magic." Or something.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> In English, you have the opposite scenario: = many=20 simple<BR>words for complex ideas or phrases. "A box which has a=20 glass<BR>upon which you view pictures which move as if by magic" = is<BR>expressed=20 as "television." Similarly, "I am a moron and have<BR>consumed = large=20 quantities of alchohol which I will soon expel<BR>through vomitting" is=20 expressed via the simple, easy-to-recall<BR>(even when drunk) word=20 "toga."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Submitted for your approval: A party, a = college=20 party. <BR>Perfectly normal, fairly intelligent young people come=20 together<BR>in order to consume hard beverages with names like "Hare=20 Kari"<BR>and "No Need For Brain Cells." Sooner or later, = inevitably,=20 they<BR>throw up, strip down, and put on sheets. Then, as if a=20 single,<BR>greater conciousness has claimed them all, they begin to=20 chant...</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "TO-GA! TO-GA! TO-GA! =20 TO-GAAAAAAAAA!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> There was a lecherous cheer as the contestants = in=20 the<BR>Five-Hundredth and Third Weekly University Toga Fashion = Show<BR>paraded=20 into the small dorm room. Their gait was unsteady, as<BR>was the = norm for=20 the show.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Miss Fire Magic 101, a petite freshman with = small=20 perky<BR>breasts and a tight rear that Marc decided he would rate at = a<BR>seven,=20 tripped over something on the floor, which would later be<BR>identified = as her=20 own feet. She fumbled in the air for something<BR>to grasp on to, = which=20 she eventually succeeded in doing. It<BR>happened to be the = makeshift toga=20 of Miss Fashion Design 201,<BR>which promptly fell to pieces and = revealed her=20 larger bosom and<BR>rounder rear, which Marc decided he would rate as = "I'm in=20 room<BR>number 423, won't you come visit me?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> With a most unladylike cry (which was not = surprising,=20 as<BR>many lucky students would report that Miss Fashion Design 201=20 was<BR>anything but a lady), she spun on her feels and slapped Miss=20 Fire<BR>Magic 101 soundly across her cheeks. (The ones on her=20 face,<BR>although Marc felt that the other set would have been=20 more<BR>interesting. He was an avid supporter of lesbian=20 rights;<BR>specifically, the right to have naked sex in = public.)</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Shortly after the party, a new regulation in=20 the<BR>University handbook would state that a fire mage was not to = have<BR>blood=20 of more than 190 proof. This was a direct result of = the<BR>spontaineous=20 combustion of Miss Fire Magic.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Woah," somebody noted,</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "That was totally cool."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Do it again!" came a third = voice.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Melanie sighed, drawing closer to Marc. = "Fire=20 makes me<BR>SO hot."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Yes, flames do that to person," Wang=20 explained.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Ignoring him, Melanie purred, "Marc, let's go = back=20 to<BR>your place..."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Marc and Melanie threw open the door and = stumbled=20 off<BR>down the hallway, little suspecting that they were actually in=20 a<BR>closet.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Somebody just die," Wang protested. = "Nobody=20 care<BR>somebody just die?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The music started again.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Who's the party pooper?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "I don't know... man, what a=20 drag."<BR> </FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><BR><FONT size=3D2> When Brandt "Malcom" X was twelve, he had = heard=20 strange<BR>noises coming from his older sister's bedroom. They = sounded=20 a<BR>little bit like a dog, panting and grunting, which was = not<BR>particularly=20 surprising: their family had a dog, a three-year-old<BR>doberman named=20 Skip. The confusing surprise was the other sound:<BR>a low, = moaning cry=20 that sounded a little bit like "Oh," or "yes,"<BR>or both put together = but drawn=20 out over a long period of time. <BR>It sounded somewhat like his = older=20 sister's voice, which was also<BR>not a surprise: it was her room, after =
all.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Brandt had opened the door, and what he saw = then=20 was<BR>definitely a surprise. Skip had just torn his sister's=20 throat<BR>out --from behind --and was standing triumphantly on top of=20 her<BR>body as if it were a trophy.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The look on his face, all those years ago, was = a=20 mere<BR>shadow of the ghastly expression on his face as he left = the<BR>Dean's=20 office. Some idle part of his brain noted, as he shuffled<BR>past = a=20 mirror, that before he went into the office, he had been a<BR>black = man. =20 Now, he was as pale as flour.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Iwillstudyhard," he mumbled, sitting stiffly = at=20 his<BR>desk. His elbow settled into a layer of dust nearly an=20 inch<BR>thick as he reached for a pen, disturbing the intricate = network<BR>of=20 spider webs. "Iwilldowellinclassandneverbeaslacker."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> He dropped his Advanced Topics in Alchemestry = book on=20 the<BR>table. It made a thump which Brandt felt was rather = loud. =20 He<BR>opened it; the front cover hitting the table made a thump = which<BR>was=20 almost certainly far too loud. Then he turned a page, and<BR>the = ensuing=20 thump was without question far too loud.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Brandt deduced that there was a party nearby, = and=20 the<BR>bass was low. At that revelation, all of the color returned =
to<BR>his pale cheeks, and he stood tall again.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Sheeeeeit, I ain' foolin' nobody. It's = time fo'=20 da man<BR>t'GIT DOWN!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><BR><FONT size=3D2> A noise that sounded something like tires = screeching=20 on<BR>pavement came from the closet. Shortly afterward, the door=20 flew<BR>from its hinges in a blur of splintered wood and brown fur = as<BR>Marc=20 Yenco's fist broke through, clutching something small = and<BR>hairy. =20 Beneath him, Melanie shreiked again, this time at the<BR>shock of being=20 completely naked and sweating before an entire<BR>toga party's worth of=20 students. She quickly grabbed something to<BR>cover herself with;=20 unfortunately it bit her.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Weasels!" Marc shouted, hurling a squirming = ball of=20 fur<BR>across the room, "Weasels, millions of them!"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Twen-tee," Wang counted.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> A flying weasel hit him in the face, and the=20 young<BR>Shinkyan student fell to the floor, clawing at the rabid beast=20 on<BR>his head. He shouted something very obscene, which = nobody<BR>noticed=20 because it was in his native tongue. That was fortunate;<BR>it was = about=20 Marc's mother.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The room erupted into a panic, which was a = small=20 step<BR>worse than riot, which it had been pushing before. =20 Screeching<BR>cheerleaders clawed with manicured nails at anything that=20 drew<BR>too close; more often than not it was a testosterone-charged=20 jock<BR>stomping after a blur of brown fuzz.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> They bathed in blood that = evening.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> When it was all over, two students were dead = and=20 five<BR>more badly wounded. And the weasels: still at = large.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The professor who taught Mystic History was a=20 Mystic,<BR>which often proved comical to the human students who took=20 the<BR>class as a blow off or an unwanted requirement for their = degree. =20 <BR>The Mystic students, however, understood all too well the = plight<BR>of their=20 diminuative teacher who could not quite reach the black<BR>board, even = with the=20 pointer fully extended. He often lectured<BR>while standing on his = desk,=20 and often fell off while pacing. <BR>All in all, it was a fun = class for=20 both the interested and the<BR>un.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> He was lecturing now: "'Mystic,' as you all = know, is=20 a<BR>broadly mis-used term. The origin of the word in regard to=20 the<BR>sapient race is unknown, but the definition is known: a Mystic = is<BR>a=20 member of the race that descends from the barbaric Imps, = crude<BR>monsters with=20 only a basic understanding of toolmaking and use. <BR>The most = common type=20 is the Commoner --those most directly<BR>related to Imps in physical=20 attributes. But, as genetic<BR>mutations occur in Humans, so do = they in=20 Mystics; and often,<BR>magical mutation as well. These often fall = into=20 predictable<BR>varieties: the Langoor, the Omnicrone.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "However, the term 'Mystic' has been corrupted = on=20 this<BR>humanicentric world by the humanicentric population to = mean<BR>anything=20 non-human. This has caused much dissent on the behalf<BR>of = pure-blooded=20 Mystics, who resent the misclassification of<BR>their species, and more=20 importantly that the humans do not seem<BR>to feel the effort of = distinguishing=20 is worthwhile. Certain<BR>fringe factions took military action, = such as in=20 the Webster<BR>Dictionary War of BC 512, where others deal only=20 politically.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Some, simply, don't give a damn, and I'm sure =
this<BR>applies to all of you bloody slackers. God, I need a=20 cigarette."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><BR><FONT size=3D2> "Are you sure it's a good idea to have a = party after=20 what<BR>happened... last time?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The voice came from somewhere in the midst of = the=20 crowd;<BR>which precise voicebox to blame is unimportant. What=20 is<BR>important is that the question was asked, and thus, Wang = could<BR>answer=20 it.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Velly safe. This just like hollol = movie. =20 Velly safe<BR>with one rule: no get laid."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The crowd, understandably, = protested.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Me explain! Safety in = numbers--"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Like in math class?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Yes, numbers do come from math class," Wang=20 said.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "So we should all go to the math = wing?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "No, no! We safe here! Only in = hollol movie=20 if two<BR>people go away they never come back. Dead."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> A deep, husky voice asked, "So, never get=20 laid?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Tha's right."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Oh."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Then, from the second floor, there was a=20 shriek.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Oh no," said Wang.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Then, two things happened at once. The = entire=20 assembled<BR>student body --that is, the Phi Beta Zeta sorrority and the = Yo=20 Yo<BR>Ma fraternity --rushed up the stairs to investigate the = scream. =20 <BR>At the very same time, a floodgate opened, and a pulsing river = of<BR>fleshy=20 weasels poured into the hall and down the stairs.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> When an immovable force and an unstoppable = force=20 meet,<BR>what is the result? Irrelevant in this case, because what =
was<BR>dealt with here were two stupid forces. Halfway up the=20 creaking,<BR>aging staircase of the Phi Beta Zeta House, two stupid=20 forces<BR>collided.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Somehow, they managed to pass. It was as = if=20 the<BR>students, in their oblivious manner, had simply not realized = that<BR>they=20 were treading on tiny rabid dynamos, and thus, thwy weren't,<BR>and = similarly=20 the crazed weasels had failed to realize that they<BR>were being stomped = by=20 heavy feet, and thus, were not.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The small bedroom was coated in blood, and the = stench=20 of<BR>death was overpowering. What remained of the unfortunate=20 couple<BR>was very little and barely recognizable; only by finding=20 his<BR>inscribed ring and guessing that he had been faithful did=20 they<BR>identify the victims as Marc and Melanie.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "What we need," a student decided, "is an=20 exterminator."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Who can you get to exterminate a pack of = crazed,=20 rabid<BR>weasels?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "A crazed, rabid mongoose?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "They hunt cobras, you moron, not = weasels."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "I think a mongoose IS a weasel," somebody=20 added.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "I say we do it ourselves." The boy who = had=20 spoken, name<BR>irrelevant as he was bound to die shortly, pumped=20 his<BR>double-barreled shotgun and unloaded a round into the ceiling=20 for<BR>emphesis. The light fixture fell to his feet with a crash=20 and<BR>bathed the room in darkness.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Well, we're off to a good = start."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Shut up."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Somebody lit a torch. Never mind where = he got=20 it. <BR>"Well, now at least we have light." He took a deep = breath=20 and<BR>sighed. "So, now we begin looking for these stupid weasels, =
eh? <BR>What are you blokes looking at? Oh, it should be = fun, I=20 suppose,<BR>if you like trudging through the woods in the middle of = the<BR>night=20 in search of brown monsters that are standing right behind<BR>me aren't=20 they?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Somebody nodded.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Oh, bollocks."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> The torch went out as the boy dropped, a = curtain of=20 brown<BR>fur descending upon him like, well, a curtain of brown = fur. =20 <BR>There really isn't a good metaphor for something like that. = <BR>Come=20 up with one, I dare you. Double-dog dare you. See? = Can't<BR>do=20 it, can you? So stop complaining.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> At any rate, what with one thing leading to = another,=20 five<BR>more students died.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2>T W O W E E K S L A T E R . . = .</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><BR><FONT size=3D2> "Glad them weasels gone an' = left."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Yup."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Ain' had an infestation like that since=20 ought-two."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Nope."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Good thang ain't nobody bin = hurt."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "'Cept them students."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Damn, Zed, who cares 'bout = them?"</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Ain't me."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Damn right."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> Silence.</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "Let's git drunk."</FONT></DIV> <DIV> </DIV> <DIV><FONT size=3D2> "'Kay."<BR></FONT></DIV></BODY></HTML>
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