I write this from my battle-station. No place is safe. Yes, that's right, they're after me... I know it's true.
The trouble all started when I was on my way to school, to go to history class. I have a long history of taking history classes. My first semester, I took them with my faithful Canadian buddy, whose name I can't remember. The professor would dress up in outrageous costumes and try to tell us that the Ancient Egyptians didn't have Levi or Reebok. The year following, I took a history class with my friend Alex. This class was a bit different; it was much more serious. Gone were the pot-heads from this class. This class accepted only the finest. Scotch, bourbon, and opiates stronger than Vicodin were the standard fare among the House of Lords students. A much more calm experience, with occasional rumors of "Quite so, quite so, old bean!" from the back of the class room. The nobility of the community college.
Naturally looking to progress my status among this noble class of the community college, this semester I've taken yet another historical community college class. This one had something to do with movies. Harmless enough, it would seem. After a long day of painting, I set out into the usual House of Lords room, and sat down.
Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong.
I looked around at the "nobility" of the class. They didn't seem quite nobby at all! Binders, books, and laptops were everywhere. But that wasn't what unsettled me. It was their eyes!
That's right, their eyes. You could see the whites clearly. The pupils were neither contracted nor dilated. No drunken slurs, no aroma of fine whiskeys. The monsters-in-training wore mostly brand names such as "Hollister" with few stains. They were quiet, but class had not started yet. No murmurs of "Oh old bean, you could think Regan was the best present, but surely you cannot believe he truly contests with Teddy Roosevelt?"
Where was I? Who were these monsters? I glanced at my phone to make sure the title wasn't something sickening like "Women in History", where the young hip female professor tried to tell us that women were more than just mattresses and baby-making tools for most of history*. No, it was still "History Goes to the Movies." In classroom... wait, I-Building? The House of Lords meets in N-building! What treachery is this!?
I carefully lean over to the kid next to me, ready for him to try to bite. His glasses said DKNY, some incomprehensible code. Probably a raver. His hair was expertly manicured, instead of 'just let grow until my girlfriend/mom makes me cut it.'
"Pssst!"
The monster looks at me strangely.
"Hey, over here!" I whisper
"Yes?" he responds in normal tone, obviously not afraid of waking the monsters from their pre-ritual meditation
"Quiet! You'll wake them! What class is this?" I whisper
"Um. Psychology." he said, backing away slowly.
Psychology! I had imagined the worst, but not this bad! I quickly grabbed my stuff and bolted to the door, just barely managing to roll out while shouting "YOU'LL NEVER GET MY PINEAL GLAND!!!"
Some time later I was able to locate the right class room. I was early, as is my nature**. Some of the students were already here, milling about aimlessly with confused looks. I walked up to the most-confused looking student, and said "History?" he looked at me briefly, giggled, then stared at the Pepsi machine, wiping his face with his palms as he was drawn to the blue light like a fly to a fly zapper. He proceeded to try to press the Mountain Dew button without remembering to insert cash.
Ah, home. This is the expected response. The girls' skirts looked home-made... actually, a lot of the clothing did. I wasn't the only one here who owned a Phrygian cap. This group was not discouraged when people asked why they were dressed like yard gnomes.
Eventually I sunk into the opium-den like feeling of a good history class. People so far removed from reality, yet they all imagined they could point you in the right direction if you asked, as long as you gave them several meals to argue about which direction, exactly, that was.
I thought it was all over, until today. I didn't think the shrinks-in-training would follow me. But then I got this message:
Michelle: u walked into my class then left
Michelle: it was weird lol
Dammit... they're on to me! The monsters have had their taste of human Pineal gland, and they want MORE! I've had to flee to an undisclosed location. I think they're tracking me down as we speak. They could be here any minute... but I have plans if that happens.
I'll keep everyone posted as the story unfolds.
From my maximum security battle station somewhere in Michigan, this is Paul Reece XLII, signing off until next time.
________________
* I'm not saying this is a good thing, I'm just saying it's pretty close to the truth. And a lot of early feminists were freaking insane and liked to throw themselves in front of horses in Derbies. Or starve themselves. Or get knocked up every week so they couldn't be thrown in jail after they blew up post offices. Luckily, some of these insane feminazis had sisters who were sane... which lead to women's rights. By building a school and showing what women could accomplish. No, really. See Pankhurst family, etc.
** That's what she said! Amirite? Oh, fist pound!
