To Condemn Two Fools
My attempts to destroy Brody's ego and sanity have, as expected, inspired his suitemates to rise against me. In that building, I cannot safely show my face, unless I want something promptly smeared across it. It is fortunate that Chaz's relations with Dauten 23 transcend their grudge against me, or else I'd have next to no access to critical information. So, it was with great enthusiasm that I recieved Chaz's report, last Wednesday, of an opportunity to strike.
He had, simply by hanging around D23, learned that Brody was at a Journalism Conference and would be until Saturday night; also, because no good fraternity can exist without betrayal, his suitemates had forced his door open. Chaz saw this as an excellent chance to do something terrible to Brody's room, so he smuggled me into the room while nobody was looking. I looked around the room, trying to find some perfect perpetration, some way of marking his room that would last until the end of the year. My more petty instincts kicked in, as well, as I momentarily considered poking a needle through the condoms I found in his drawer; I decided not to, as I am not inclined to let Brody's gametes spread farther than his sheets and the sewer system. No, I wanted something bigger! For all my boasting and threatening, I felt I had quite a bit of hype to live up to. I had to think outside the box. I had to think outside the room I was in.
It is a strange mechanism which allows Brody's open and unguarded room to inspire me as it did, but the arc of revenge is often much larger than the most apparent opportunities. Standing there, his domain squished between my fingers, I closed my eyes and my mind and considered the second ramification of Brody's absence; he was far away from anyone who might protect him. Returning my mind to this meager plane, I asked Chaz where Brody's conference was being held. He said "Kansas". I said "Then we're going to Kansas".
We returned to the suite to gather our things, and we found dear Vladimir putting the finishing touches on a soviet adaptation of the "potato cannon". Though traditionally made of PVC or some other sturdy plastic, Vladimir's brainchild is made of stainless steel and has a laser sight. For once, I found myself considering the ways in which Vlad might be useful. He and his cannon came to occupy the backseat of my car.
Were they around to say so, Chaz and Vlad might tell you that we all had a rollocking good time driving to Kansas. One of the many fatal mistakes I made this weekend was in bringing two assistants along, as I was quickly out-voted on nearly every issue. Choking down a Big Mac, listening to Eminem and playing I Spy is not my idea of a fun time, especially when one of your cohorts thinks "I Spy" is a matter of national security.
We reached Topeka early Thursday morning, and we slept in our seats until the light of day was too much to ignore. I will not recount the futility of the following 60 hours. What you should know is this : Friday morning, in an attempt to blast a Bush billboard, Vladimir exploded my rear left window. Saturday afternoon, Chaz made some phonecalls and informed me that the reason we could not find the convention is because it was in Kansas City. Saturday evening, I let the two of them drink until Chaz couldn't stand up straight, drove them to the middle of a field, knocked Vlad out with his steel cannon, then drove home.
I believe in proactive evolution. I believe that whatever fate you bring down on yourself is deserved, and if that fate should leave you dead in a ditch.... well, then you weren't fit to live in your time and place. The mistakes that Chaz and Vlad made were unforgivable, and the thought of driving all the way back to St Louis with the same bad music and the same bad fast food was just more than I could bear. Should they find their way back, then, I suppose I will have to deal with the consequences of my actions. Know, however, that I am not at all certain they will ever make it back.
That is all.
He had, simply by hanging around D23, learned that Brody was at a Journalism Conference and would be until Saturday night; also, because no good fraternity can exist without betrayal, his suitemates had forced his door open. Chaz saw this as an excellent chance to do something terrible to Brody's room, so he smuggled me into the room while nobody was looking. I looked around the room, trying to find some perfect perpetration, some way of marking his room that would last until the end of the year. My more petty instincts kicked in, as well, as I momentarily considered poking a needle through the condoms I found in his drawer; I decided not to, as I am not inclined to let Brody's gametes spread farther than his sheets and the sewer system. No, I wanted something bigger! For all my boasting and threatening, I felt I had quite a bit of hype to live up to. I had to think outside the box. I had to think outside the room I was in.
It is a strange mechanism which allows Brody's open and unguarded room to inspire me as it did, but the arc of revenge is often much larger than the most apparent opportunities. Standing there, his domain squished between my fingers, I closed my eyes and my mind and considered the second ramification of Brody's absence; he was far away from anyone who might protect him. Returning my mind to this meager plane, I asked Chaz where Brody's conference was being held. He said "Kansas". I said "Then we're going to Kansas".
We returned to the suite to gather our things, and we found dear Vladimir putting the finishing touches on a soviet adaptation of the "potato cannon". Though traditionally made of PVC or some other sturdy plastic, Vladimir's brainchild is made of stainless steel and has a laser sight. For once, I found myself considering the ways in which Vlad might be useful. He and his cannon came to occupy the backseat of my car.
Were they around to say so, Chaz and Vlad might tell you that we all had a rollocking good time driving to Kansas. One of the many fatal mistakes I made this weekend was in bringing two assistants along, as I was quickly out-voted on nearly every issue. Choking down a Big Mac, listening to Eminem and playing I Spy is not my idea of a fun time, especially when one of your cohorts thinks "I Spy" is a matter of national security.
We reached Topeka early Thursday morning, and we slept in our seats until the light of day was too much to ignore. I will not recount the futility of the following 60 hours. What you should know is this : Friday morning, in an attempt to blast a Bush billboard, Vladimir exploded my rear left window. Saturday afternoon, Chaz made some phonecalls and informed me that the reason we could not find the convention is because it was in Kansas City. Saturday evening, I let the two of them drink until Chaz couldn't stand up straight, drove them to the middle of a field, knocked Vlad out with his steel cannon, then drove home.
I believe in proactive evolution. I believe that whatever fate you bring down on yourself is deserved, and if that fate should leave you dead in a ditch.... well, then you weren't fit to live in your time and place. The mistakes that Chaz and Vlad made were unforgivable, and the thought of driving all the way back to St Louis with the same bad music and the same bad fast food was just more than I could bear. Should they find their way back, then, I suppose I will have to deal with the consequences of my actions. Know, however, that I am not at all certain they will ever make it back.
That is all.
posted by Alfonzo Debussy | 2:19 PM
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