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Show " fj j 1 I ; sez to Hoyo one fine morning V e had called the guard dogs in from 0 meht watch around our place of ,heir e and sent out my mother and ': 'Iter on the first of the morning " h natrols "looks like the natives were fi;Pqu,eter last night." . ,does" Hoyo reported back from his 'of the' tank, "only three athlets, one Shunter, and four greeks zapped by our Senses. The new wall must have helped, v seZi "but hark- is that a note tied ,theend of that arrow protruding from (:hat tree?" Co it is" replies the young Indian common com-mon after skirting the land mines and burning safely, and it seems to be a note" And 50 we read the following: RW THAT BY AGAIN Neil Patten ,,vas lying on my back in the grass in front 01 the Student Union on a sunny day, reading "Pilgrim's Progress' for lit. and minding my own business, when suddenly IMS interrupted by the appearance of this huge foot, at least three feet long, descending on my face. How anyone who has taken advantage of his exposure to higher education has kimed to question the evidence of his eyes and seek the greater psychological truth beneath that surface illusion. However, alter due consideration of the shards of broken teeth rattling in my mouth and the hole my head had made in the surface of the good hard Union lawn, I ivasaf length forced to conclude that there was in reality this big foot in my face. "But pray kind sir, and please forgive my slothful ignorance if I err; isn't the organization you represent, and symbol of which you wield in your hand, an institution?" in-stitution?" "The Chronicle? Zowie! Are you ever dumb. Every member of the staff is a rugged individualist. . .just like me." "Come on Hobo, leave us leave this frat-lover frat-lover to his depraved reading. We got to go on down to the Park Bldg. where we sticks pins in the traffic appeals officer for that ticket Fluffy got. It ain't hardly fair. How was we to know we wasn't supposed to park in front of the door of the emergency room at the Med. center?" "Who is that masked stranger?" I asked the ' little man, as the giant strode westward , into the sunset, tripped over the bookstore, fell into the parking lot and wiped out a campus police car and a Stanley Steamer. "That Asphalt Jungle Jim Wallboard," replied the little man proudly, bringing . himself to attention and gashing his hand on the knife in his teeth as he saluted, "stalwart defender of. . ." "Yeah, know," I interrupted, "liberal 4 philosophy." "Yadda," screeched the little man, "yadda." "Zorg," sez Hoyo, after reading the note, "that dude is really harsh. But, like they say, imitation is the highest form of flattery." "I suppose that's right," I replies, "but one thing still bothers me." "Whaz zat?" asks Hoyo. "I sure wish," I replies, "that tne imitation weren't so damn good." With one eye, I was able to make out towering above me, a. gigantic figure, at least thirty feet tall, wearing a black mask and carrying a rolled up paper with the word "Chronicle" across the end. Beside this incredible figure stood a big grey Indian elephant ridden by a small, swarthy, brown man wearing a loin cloth, flame thrower, a bandolier festooned with hand-grenades, hand-grenades, and carrying a long curved knife in his teeth. "Yadda," cried the little brown man enthusiastically, en-thusiastically, "another blow struck for liberal philosophy." "Pray kind sir," I mumbled brokenly through the remains of my teeth, "pray remove thy foot for mightily it doth afflict me and I would know for what offense I suffer." "Reactionary!" screeched the little man. "We saw you reading that book." "There's no excuse for creeping conservatism," con-servatism," thundered the giant, every syllable driving my head deeper into the lawn. Suddenly a small figure in a red jacket with brown sleeves and a big white "U" on the front broke from the shelter of the Union and dashed toward the library. Lifting his foot from my face the giant turned in pursuit of the retreating figure. Raising the rolled paper over his head, he brought it down with vicious force. Blood squirted out around the edges. "Yadda," cried the little man joyously, "another blow struck for liberal philosophy." "In the name of our savior!" I exclaimed incredulously, raising my battered head. "Hold it," cautioned the little man, jumping down from his elephant and jamming the nozzle of his flame thrower down my trousers, "one more move and you'll be the first guy on campus to wear hot pants!" "By your leave, what did he do?" "What'd he do?! It's as clear as the hole in your stomach after a swallow of Huddle coffee." "You mean . . .?" "He was a member of an institution!" thundered the giant. "The swine!" I yelped as the shadow of the foot fell across my face. |