“You’re welcome. Lucky for you I didn’t listen.” Regi says “If you hadn’t come down here this wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”
“You’re not helping.” Someone shouts “Medic! Oh My God! We need a medic or maybe a golf pro!” The Chancellor says “Who’s on that gurney?”
“I’ll ask the questions. How long has your school been dealing in the underground cadaver market?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do.” “Better think again.” I thought again. After a moment lost in thought I said “I still think you deal in dug up cadavers.”
Rubbing his head, the Chancellor manages to sit up. “You are trespassing on my island, stealing academic property. I wield the sword here.”
“Big deal. The pen is mightier than the sword.” He pulls out a sword. “Unless it’s a real sword in which case the pen should run away fast.”
“Last chance. What’s on the gurney?” He brandishes his blade. “Very impressive sword. You know what Freud would say?” “It’s your funeral.”
“No. Freud would say ‘It’s your penis.'” He raises his sword for the kill stroke. Suddenly Yorick appears and parries it with his golf club.
My life passes before my eyes and I reassess my opinion of monkeys. Before the Chancellor recovers Regi knocks him down with the gurney.
“Arkaby let’s go!” The Chancellor screams “You monkey, you!” This time, against my better nature, I leave him be. Yorick says “Tsk tsk tsk.”
As Regi and I push the gurney bearing Granger’s body toward the parking lot, Yorick and the Chancellor continue dueling, sword to golf club.
David waits for us at the entrance, his Jeep ready to go. “What have you got there?” he asks. “A cadaver the school acquired illegally.”
“What gives you the right to skyjack a school body?” “He was my father” says Regi. “Condolences. When did he pass?” “Four years ago.” “Huh?”
“You’re stealing a four year old corpse?” “Confiscating.” “At this point isn’t he just bones and goop?” “Apparently he’s not biodegradable.”
We load Granger’s immortal remains onto the back of David’s Taxi. Regi looks back at a campus in ruins and says “I leave everything behind.”
“I’ve lost my clothes, my books, prospects for my future.” I take Regi’s hand. “I’m in up to my neck, but you can return to your classes.”
The eponymous foghorn that tops the largest lecture hall teeters and crashes down. Fire alarms, bells, whistles and shouts fill the air.
The campus below us fills with salt water. Students on upper dormitory floors leap to watery deaths. Regi says, “No. I’ll stick with you.”
“It’s amazing what you can accomplish with a handful of monkeys and a good set of golf clubs. We climb in the jeep and David hits the gas.”
Our tires squeal as we pull onto the road. I say “I have one request. Stay on the ground ’til we’re in the air.” “No problem.” “No. Really.”
David looks over at Regi. “Better buckle up.” “I’m way ahead of you” she says. I clip my own seatbelt as David puts his pedal to the metal.
(The Twitter Mystery continues daily at @Twitstery)