Profs and Prophecy

School Days, School Daze

Chapter Four

School Days, School Daze

“And then the Registrar says,

‘I will. Do you plan to use the Blood Stone this year.’

“And then the Vice Chancellor says,

‘Yes, of course, the Blood Stone. Next order of business, gentlemen. This is the year in which the prophecy will finally come to pass.’

“And then the rest of us says,

‘The prophecy!’ ‘Really?’ ‘This year. Imagine that.’ ‘Which…’”

“Enough!” shouted the Vice Chancellor. “We waste half our time each meeting this way. I motion that for once, we dispense with the reading of the minutes from last meeting. Those in favour?”

Six of eight hands were raised.

“Those opposed?”

The other two members of the Governing Council raised their hands.

“It is unanimous,” said the Vice Chancellor. “Motion carried,” he said as he banged his gavel. No one knew where he had obtained a gavel; it certainly wasn’t standard equipment for a Vice Chancellor. Most figured he had bought it himself.

The Governing Council for FrogBottom University met once a fortnight. This was their second session for the current term.

“First order, gentlemen,” began the Vice Chancellor. “New business. Is there any new business to be discussed at this time?” The other seven members of the Governing Council looked around at each other, the way people do when they’re hoping someone else will speak and take the pressure off them. At the last possible moment, one figure took a reluctant half step forward out of the gloom.

“The chair recognizes Professor Bilge. What new business do you bring to the Council, Professor?”

The Professor spoke hesitantly. “Well, it’s just, some of us was wondering, there was a time not so long ago, I mean, right here in Council…”

“My patience is a luxury not to be abused, Professor. Get to the point.”

Professor Bilge took the Vice Chancellor’s meaning and continued rather more swiftly, “The thing is, you see, we always used to have muffins at these meetings. And some of us felt, that, well, it was kind of nice the old way. With muffins, if you know what I mean.”

“They was in a basket,” added a dark shadow nervously.

“They was always one with cranberries,” contributed another.

“You’re serious?” said the Vice Chancellor, holding back none of his venomous sarcasm. “You’re perfectly serious, you expect this council’s first order of business to be a discussion about cranberry muffins? No one can think up something better? Something more relevant to, say, the administration of a major educational institution?”

“All I’m saying, is it was sort of nice. Friendly, like.”

“This is unbelievable. How about a nice coffee dispenser as well? Biscuits and tea?”

Some of the shadows nodded encouragingly, obviously not recognizing sarcasm when they heard it. Professor Bilge did not move, more out of reluctance to draw attention than any desire to continue pressing his case. Much the same way a mouse will not move when he knows full well the cat has seen him, and every fibre of his being says run, but for some reason he clings to the misguided hope that, ‘maybe he’s forgotten about me.’

The Vice Chancellor waited a moment, then continued. “Satan’s knickers, next you’ll be wanting chairs. Right, of course, let’s debate the muffin issue. What could be more important. Have you any other points to make before the motion?”