Old Dominion University - Troubador Yearbook (Norfolk, VA)

Page 31 text:

cestry or intelligence but did claim a knowledge of trespassing laws. He refused to be ignored and proceeded to put real conviction in his eviction effort. The female, or wife, of the family owning the blue blood dog became aware of two things at once. One, that her darling dog was receiving a severe thrashing at the rear of the house, and, two, that her darling husband was entering the front of the house. Now the male, or husband, of the family had recently been promoted to a position of no little importance and was acutely aware of it. Being aware of it he imagincdhimse1f heavily burdened with responsibilities. So, naturally, he had acquired the irritable and superior airs that go with importance and responsibility. His se1f-important broodings were shattered by a shriek from his wife. He gathered from the shriek that some damn mutt was beating the hell out of Smudgy the Third, Smudgy the Third being the title that had been handed down to the blue blood dog. The husband was more than certain that he was superior to any dog living. He rushed around the house to rescue his poor little, but superior, Smudgy the Third. He was met by what he believed to be an enraged pony, and a growl not unlike that of a ruptured lion. The effect of the loud growl and the sight of the huge and very-very vicious dog had an in-stantancous effect upon him. MY GAWD, he screamed, not yelled. He immediately retraced his steps back to the front door, ascended his stairs, entered his apartment, secured a weapon (baseball bat by name), and descended his back stairs to do battle with this monstrosity that had succeeded in shattering the composure he had been creating for weeks. Smudgy the Third meanwhile had departed, as fast as his aristocratical legs would carry him, to spots that he considered safer. For the next fifteen minutes strange sounds could be heard from the rear of the house. They sounded something like this: You son of, ROAR, you no-good, ROAR-ROAR, get the hell away, GROWL-RIP-TFAP-ROAR. The human retreated, deciding that intelligence could win out only if it had the opportunity to present itself, and it required a thick oak door between the intelligence and the vicious dog before the intelligence could function properly. All was quiet. No opponents were forthcoming to challenge the dogs right to the back porch. The dog must have felt that a deep-rooted plot was being hatched against him as he appeared ill-at-ease. His authority had been proven anyway. With a triumphant howl, that somehow made one thinkof dense jungles and huge all-powerful animals, the dog leaped from the porch and trotted easily away. He paused only once, for a split-second glance over his shoulder, and he appeared to be laughing, laughing, laughing. I found the words, atomic age, running through my mind. ... Dog Story by Howard Spruill Significant bit of work. And quite well done, too. Maybe the English department is in this building. My, it’s quite dark in here. And what an odd odor! Seems to be a composite of tired gym socks and burning golf balls - augmented by four gallons of citronella. Where is i t coming from...? Ah, this must be a laboratory. There are the neat rows of stone-topped work tables. Equipment lockers under and reagent shelves over them. Shelves all over the place. Let’s see, Chemicals, burners, test tubes, ring stands, and-empty coke bottles. That's probably the instructor’s desk, lurking under that mountainous pile of tinker toys, paper clips, and comic books - science fiction, I trust. Shades of the Philosophy department! What secret, black and midnight hags” are these? Oh, faculty members. But what is that apparatus they're watching so intently? It almost touches the ceiling. And so complex! Condensers, distilling flasks, bunsen burners, collecting beakers, glass tubing...what on earth goes on? The experiment in progress is probably one of grave consequence, so I’ll just move over quietly to where I can see and hear. Gentlemen, according to my calculations, the proportion has to be six grams per liter of solution. Actually, the results show fivepoint seven grams, but we must allow the three tenths of a gram for evaporation loss and impurity of the mixture. My, oh my, ain't they dressed up? I prefer the white lab gown with belt in the back to the conservative gray models the other two are sporting. That sounds, ah, logical to me, but my shin hurts were I, ah, humped into the door, so I’d be willing to try anything to get this over with and go home. Here, cauterize it with this HNOs. No, thank you, you’ve spilled enough on

Page 30 text:

mean? Eng 1ish. All of them? Yes. Well, - really. But I’m prepared for this. Where is that short story I wrote? Ah, here it is. Humm, not bad.... This story has everything Humor, pathos, and a message. Illustrates the futility of human endeavour. Isn'tit remarkable that one so young could be so well versed in the ways of Nature? Lessee, now ... I settled into a comfortable lounge chair and thought how lucky I was to have an entire evening off from work. An entire evening in which to catch up on my studies. An entire evening in which to enjoy the peace and quiet of home. How wonderful, I said aloud, as I snuggled deeper intothe soft comfort of the chair. My mother's startled cry shattered the robe of ecstacy in which I had enclosed myself. What the devil is wrong? I asked. There is a big dog on our back porch and he will not go away, she replied. I forced myself out of the chair and walked to the back door. I am not sure what I expected to see but the sight which met my eyes was a shock. Perched in the middle of the porch was a huge and obviously vicious dog. He apparently had claimed the porch as his own and was defying anyone to dispute his ownership. Hm-m-m-m-m, I said aloud in order to let my mother know that I was considering the matter. Now there resided in our neighborhood a mongrel who existed off the food donations of the various fami 1 ies. This mongre 1 was approaching our back door to receive our nightly contribution to his existence. The huge and obviously vicious dog that had claimed our porch as his own had no way of knowing that this other dog was merely trying to further his existence. He apparently considered the neighborhood mongrel a trespasser as he proceeded to show him, in the way that only a huge and vicious dog can show anyone, that he was trespassing and it would be sensible and healthier, to leave at once. Hm-m-m-m-m--Hm-m-m-m, I said again to let my mother know that the situation had acquired more depth and needed further thinking. My step-father returns home, as most men do, from work every day. He is tired from a hard day’s work. Being tired he does everything in his power not to exert himself. One of his energy-saving devices is to cut across the hack yard to gain entrance to his home. By doing this he saves walking the block and a half necessary to reach his front entrance. He was tired tonight. He elected to cut through the back yard. He approached our back porch. I was to interested in seeing what would happen to warn him. The huge and now proven vicious dog had no way of knowing that this aew intruder was merely passing through. He, in his dog-like manner, proved that he did not want anyone to intrude on his property or privacy. In doing so he removed a strip of cloth from a cheap, but highly prized, pair of pants that adorned my step-father’s person. Realizing that he was ill-equipped to do battle with this large, and rather impolite, canine, my stepfather retreated. He circled the house, acquired greater speed and temper by the second, entered our front door, obtaining a huge fishing gaff,not unlike an extra-long broom handle with a frightening hook attached, and went out of the back door much better prepared, emotionally and materially, to do battle. The dog proved quite agile for his size and evaded the wicked gaff that was swung at him. The gaff continued its forward motion, struck the edge of the porch, and snapped at its point of contact. This left my step-father with a too short piece of wood as a weapon. He retreated through the back door, which I nervously held open for him. The dog again took up residence in the center of the porch. My step-father looked at me. I looked at him. Hm-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m, we said together. There lives above us, on the second floor, a family consisting of two humans and'a very well bred and high-priced dog. This dog is released nightly from the four walls and affection that he lives in. This temporary freedom is made necessary by the biological functions, which is unavoidable even in aristocracy, human or canine. The dog had just been turned out to make his nightly contribution to the terra-firma that makes up our back yard. Upon exiting he came face to face with the self-appointed proprietor of our back porch, namely the huge and more vicious by-the-moment canine that had taken up residence there. The well bred and high-priced dog saw at a glance that the monstrosity who was facing him was of low intelligence and doubtful ancestry, thus not worthy of his attention. He ignored him. The huge and unsurpassably vicious dog knew nothing of an-

Page 32 text:

it already. OK, stop gassing. One of you heat that first flask up to 102° C, so we can start the synthesis. The other can get some goggles to wear in case the system clogs and explodes. Okay, I'll get the gog - what do you want, boy? I just wanted to look the place over, sir. Mercy, why are they so suspicious? They must take me for some sort of nihilist. Well, I guess we’re stuck with him. If we run him out, he’ll probably tip off everybody i n the building. True. It’s better to split the proceeds with just one more than with the whole bunch. Okay, boy, grab some goggles and stay out way. Wonder what they’re making. I’m all afire with curiosity. Better follow this procedure very carefully. Hmmn, they’re adding a dark brown, granular substance to clear liquid which is now boiling violently. Now, the whole maze of vessels is filled with a hot, brown vapor. All the vapor is collecting into a water condenser where it’s condensed to a liquid again. How fascinating! The experiment was evidently a success. There they stand, in a three way huddle, sniffing, smiling their delight, and shaking hands. I can stand it no longer. I must know! What in the world is it? You mean to say you don’t know? I’m afraid not, sir. Here, see for yourself. Mmmra - well I am aghast. I am indeed. Can I believe the testimony of my heretofore reliable olfactory organ? Can it - can it be... coffee? What do you think of it? It - it's excellent. It is. It’s undeniably as fine a vat of coffee as I’ve ever smelled. It’s - certainly -coffee. Heh, heh.. Excuse me, gentlemen, I just remembered a previous appointment’. Coffee. Nuts! ...and what do we do? We go and put mother-hubbards on these simple, happy people and make them miserable in a biological crime -and we call it civilization. Ah, the clarion ca11 of Bio logy instructor. And there he is - bathing his gold-fish and watching the young lady at the microscope. Say, what are you doing? You look so worried. A paramecium gummed one of our amoebae on his pseudopodium during first period lab. Neither of them seems to feel too well. Maybe they need a good stiff drink. What is the other gentleman doing? Oh, I see. Smearing the print on a set of pending departmental exams. If they aren’t better by tomorrow, give them a good dose of Hadacol. Fo’ fo’teen yeahs, ah wuz sick, run-down, couldn’ do mah wuk. Then, ah taken a case of Hadacol. Now, ah duz all mah fren’s wuk. Damned clever, these German scientists. I hope you’re all prepared for the lecture on the crayfish next week. Hemember, it is imperative that you emphasize the fact that the crayfish has nineteen appendages. It has? Well, fancy that. What has a crayfish, that I lack, to rate so many appendages? And what does it do with them all? Probably has to stuff them up under its cephalothorax to walk. Itwould look perfectly ludicrous scuttling across the floor with all nineteen appendages working in and out of one another. Wonder what is an appendage. Why, of course! All of us agreed that we wouldn’t pass any student who failed to learn the number of appendages on a crayfish. It wouldn't be fair to the student, no matter how much other biological information he possessed. How could we allow a student to go out into the world devoid of such vital information? Why, you never know when you might be called upon to know the appendages on a crayfish. Sorry, ma’am, but don’t make a big production of it. I’ve led a very sheltered life. Never had much fun as a child, myself. And somehow, my dear, departed Aunt Sarah, when she dandled me upon her substantial, well-uphol-stered knee, neglected to mention crayfish appendages. Probably just an overishgt, but there it is. I’m more to be pitied than censured. Had I ever encountered the emergency you mention, I should have been forced to tread heavily upon my inquisitor, for, until today, I hadn’t the foggiest notion how many appendages has a crayfish. But now I know, and you may rest secure in the knowledge that I shall never, ever be able to forget. ■Personally, I believe we could omit every-