An Unexpected Visitor Shakes Things Up [FICTOID]

Friday’s existential threat at the academy came in the form of Dean Willoughby, who rolled up to the barbecue in his little electric scooter and started gobbling hot dogs right off the grill.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the president of the philatelist society, “but those are our hot dogs -- “

“They’re my hot dogs now,” said Dean Willoughby, patting his ample belly as if to underline his claim.

“But we paid for them -- “

“Maybe you did, I don’t know, I don’t care.  They’re mine now,” the dean said with a grin, slapping his belly harder.

The philatelist president seemed nonplussed.  “Well, if you’re hungry -- “

“That’s just the point,” said the dean, “I’m not.  I’m actually forcing myself to eat these.”

“But why -- “

“That kind of outlook will get you nowhere,” said the dean.  “Go with the flow.  Once yours, now mine.  Deal with it.”

Suddenly an arrow whizzed past the dean’s nose, dragging a thin line behind it.

Down this tightrope slid The Nightingale like a skateboarder on a stair rail.  The Nightingale!  The voice of justice in the academic world!

Leaping off the tightrope in a tight tuck, The Nightingale landed before the dean.

“The hell you doin’?” she demanded.  “Wreckin’ these fine folks cookout.  Hit the road, jack!”

“My name is Willoughby -- “

“Your name is Mudd if you hang around here!” The Nightingale yelled.  She grabbed the cables on the dean’s scooter chair, hot wired them, and sent him speeding off.

“Where’s he going?” the philatelist president asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care,” said The Nightingale, echoing the dean.

“When will he stop?”

“When the battery runs down,” said The Nightingale.  “And I hope it’s an Energizer.”

© Buzz Dixon