Royal St Georges College - Georgian Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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SURVIVAL We've trapped him! , cried a voice. We've trapped him in the room! I-Ia, ha. That's what they think. I quickly rushed to the window, flipped the latches and removed the screens. I popped my head out of the window and could see little flashes of light coming from the fire flies. Those were the first signs to tell me that I was not at home watching the tele, but here trying to escape. I looked down. It was a good five metre drop to the ground. But I figured that it was better than getting caught. Just as I hit the ground, I heard them break through the door. I wasted no time in getting away from the area and ran for ten minutes, then slowed down to a walk and passed a narrow, well-beaten path leading to the water. I now noticed that the bright lights from the cabin had disappeared. Only the thin puffs of smoke were visible through the bright moonlight. Then my ears started to pick up sounds that I had not heard in ages, such as the strumming of cricket legs as if they were in the Boston Philharmonic. But I could pay no more attention to these new sounds. I had to concentrate on the narrow, meandering path, making sure not to cause any noise and attract attention. Then suddenly, I heard a voice crying out a com- mand and telling his dog to heel. I needed to listen now because I knew that they were on my trail. I dove into the closest bush and felt the mulberry bush ripping at my skin. I swore quietly under my breath and swore not to ever again try such a stunt. I then realized that I had dove into the bush none too soon because in a few seconds I heard the dog charging down the path. I held my breath as I heard the dog sniffing around as if he had caught my scent. I was relieved to find that he was only answering a call from nature. Now I could see a shadow in front of me and could see the new North Star grebs shining in the moonlight. Soon after they had left, I crept out, but in the doing, broke a dry twig. I heard the yells that I did not want to hear. Let the dog after him! I came crashing out of the bushes like a bear chasing a salmon. I now knew that I was running for my life. I headed down the hill toward the water as fast as my legs could carry me. But they were still on my trail. The water was now my last hiding place. I was now a good minute in front of them. I dove into the fresh cooling water. Suddenly, I heard footsteps. There was no way for them to get down there with such speed. Who could it be'???'????? Then I saw the shadow take form. It was my younger cousin. I promptly told him to get out of here. The sharks are going to get you! , he replied. Like hell! I was in no mood for this. After that, he ran away. But again, I heard foot- steps. This time, it was two people with a dog. They started walking toward me, getting closer and closer. Then they stopped about five feet in front of me. I heard clicking noises. I knew that my time had come. I was bobbing in the water when it hit me. Damnl , I cried. Then my brother and his friend replied, Now it's your turn to find us. fla. -. xvv - I 9 -I 5 IA 6

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THE TRIALS OF BRINGING UP MOM YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT Back door opens and slams shut as Peter enters the house Mom: Peter: Mom: Peter: Mom: Peter: Mom: Peter: Mom: Peter: Mom: David: Peter: David: Mom: Peter: David: tspeaking in bright, cheery voice! Hi Peter, how are you? ia monotonous voice! Good. How was your day? Good. How was the science test? Good. tsounding rather upset! You are such a conver- sationalist! What other words do you know be- sides good ? What is there to eat? l'm starving. I made you some nutritious carrot muffins. Have a couple with an apple and a glass of milk, this face shows a hatred for the food! But I feel like chips, Coke, and a nice big, juicy chocolate doughnut. trolls eyes and grins! Csighs loudly! How many times do l have to tell you that junk food will give you pimples and stunt your growth! Yeh, you should see the awful things that hap- pen to your face -- what they show on the tele pimple commercials. What a mess! Oh, shut up, Fudgie! Who asked you? tPeter pushes David's favourite car off the table! Qscreaming! Mom! Mom! Peter just wrecked my best car lDavid kicks Peter in the leg! Qpulling at her hair! Come along, you two, cut it out! Now l see why there are wars in the world. Children spend all their free time prac- ticing to become experts at it. Qstaring at his healthy snack! Happiness is being marooned on a desert island with an un- limited supply of gooey chocolate doughnuts. iPeter sighs and stares off into space! fMom leaves room and Peter jumps up, grabs large bottle of Coke hidden away and starts drinking! Mom! Mom! Peter's drinking a whole bottle ol' Coke -- straight from the bottle. He didn't even put it into a glass! l can see the piniples popping out already! I' M om: David: Peter: lenters rootn in a rage! Peter. lot that you get an extra helping ol' fucehnn topped with uheat germ and allalla sprouts lot dinner. tNloui leaves room! Wheat germ on zucchini vvith altalta sprouts! Ha! l bet you can hardly vvait! lcyes narrovving! Just vvait till Saturday night when Dad and Mom go out and I get to baby- sit, you little troll. VK'on't we have lttn together! lPeter makes scary monster lace at David and then stumps out ol' roorn, leaving David shaking.! .-- l I J

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DON JUAN I, having writ a story out in prose Whose subject is a fellow named Don Juan, And having read a poem, one of those Of Byron, did decide to write a new one. This as one of Byron's own does pose Although it cannot hope to be a true one. I hope you will excuse this piece of verse Compared to Byron, l come out the worse. My old friend Byron must have been quite bright, For he seems quite impossible to stop. His complicated rhyme with him takes flight While in my hands, it seems, it can but hop. He wrote full sixteen cantos - what a sight! It is a record I can scarcely IOP, E'en though he was an energetic suitor, And, unlike me, he lacked his own com- puter. What could it be that gave him such a skill? Why is it that l cannot match his prowess? His twelve more years of grinding through Iife's mill? I . . A genius with which God did not endow us? His era whose achievements glitter still? His stormy life which never fails to wow us? Give me some time - some day like him l'll be - Meanwhile, my tale - No more of such as he! My hero Juan, note, is not the same As Byron's Casanova in his work. His hero searched for love, ours seeks for fame- My hero's more sedate than that young turk. Although my hero's quest seems rather tame It is a quest that few today would shirk. It is a quest quite fitting for today, When vain ambition has the earth in sway. Yes, it is sad to think on happier days, tHappier we think, although we do not know them And see them only through the scarlet haze Of those who, writing history, do show them.j Those times, immortalized in books and plays, Of wilder oats, and those who used to sow them. It is, perhaps, illusion after all, But I still think Romantics had a ball. But to our tale - we view my hero now. He plots and plans with devilish ambition, But troubles have put furrows in his brow. One standing close to him could hear Perdition! Escape his trembling lips as he asks How Is it l find myself in this position? Ah Death , he asks in pain, Where is thy sting? No-one appears to want me as their king. With utter lack of modesty, he shouts, I am the one best suited for the crown! With utter lack of chivalry he pouts, Why should my ugly brother gain renown? His brother's kingly qualities he doubts, And on his brother's victories he frowns. What's more his views are shared by those in court Who still refuse his brother's plan to th- wart. He Uuani is well known for courtly manners, His brother is a most notorious boor. He always carries many women's banners, His foe's romantic record is quite poor Yet others in his plans always put spanners, And thus my hero's face is rather dour. His brother's praise is rather hard to sing For he's the very image of the king! He wracks his brains for hours, to no avail. He cannot see why this has come to pass. Why do his subtle strategems all fail? Why do his brother's always win, alas? Why does his brother's bark to victory sail While storms and tempests do his own harass? These problems do perplex him to no end, And so he seeks the judgement of his friend. The days fly by, while he with earth-bound tread Of hoofs rides on towards his wise friend's home. He flays his horse until it's almost dead And beads of fearful sweat bedew his dome Because of fearful visions in his head Of what the ending could be of this poem. But soon to his friend's gates he comes, of course, fl cut the voyage short, to spare the horse.l Once at the gates, he through them swiftly speeds And seeks, with much alacrity, his friend. He moves at speed of horse sans aid of steeds And often hurts himself where hallways bend Until he finds the place Pasquale reads And his long, nerve-wracked journey finds its end. And now my tale approaches its finale For nothing is mysterious to Pasquale. Pasquale, friend, , he says in solemn tone, I have a problem as you no doubt see, For it appears l'm not to get the throne. Please explain why this should come to be. Pasquale said, Please leave me here, alone, And I will see what visions come to me. For our friend was a wizard without compass, Although he was, as we shall see, quite pompous. And so, with fearful tread. our friend departed. Soon, our wise old mage the answer knew And summoned back our hero leaden- hearted. He said, I fear there's nothing you can do The fates conspire against you. , then he farted, Wrecking the air of mystery' he tried to brew. If you think he'll answer Juan soon, You underestimate the old buffoon. Summoning up his grandeur, he began, Back in the early days of Spanish kings, Back in the Golden Age of Spanish Man, There lived a king who knew of many things Of ancient lore, or so the legend ran, For of his exploits my old history sings. I'm sure, , said Juan, his fame shall never pale, But please come to the point ul this long tale! I shall, , Pasquale said, but first, tell me Are you more apt a man to fit the throne Or is your foe, though I could hardly see How his monarchal skills surpass your own. My brother a good king could neser be, The kingly skills are surely tntne alone! His brother was so ugly, short and tat, No one could call our friend Don Juan that! There, then, the reason's now as clear as day! , Said Mage Pasquale, flourishing his hat, Said Juan, Not to me. I hase to say, The readers, I am sure, agree with that. But now the reason's not too far assay. With crafty old Pasquale up at bat, Although l'm sure the sneaky old debaucher Will want to put his poor friend through some torture. Your brother's plain, to say the sery least, While you by any judge's eyes are not. 'Tis very true, l'm beauty to his beast. A wretched visage is, for him. lifc's lot. But why should it propel him to the feast While I am left outside. to lick the pot? But inspiration soon his face suffused. And suddenly he was no more confused. I see, , he said. although he was quite wrong, Those friends of mine are fearful of their wives And think that someone vtith my brother's DONE Would make them guard their sirtue sstth their knives While someone with my face could, with a song. Encourage e'en surrender of their lises. They're right. he said, but with a puzzled frown. A fault that small will keep me from the crown? No, no! . said the Sage, Quite soon the block you'll know, If you'll allow me to resume my tale - Now, you see I've lost my story's How. Where was I? Yes, the reason that you fatl Stems from an edict published long ago By the king, whom all my histories hail. For, you see, he stated to the nation The following: tsince garbled in translattonl Many minds hase tried, without success, To find the reason why he made the order. No, none of them make out the crazy mess Some say the good king's mind was on the border Of disorder. and hots can I tell you less tln latter years, his room required a stardcri Well here it is, the lass which gtses you pain, THE REIGN IN SPAIN I-Al IS Nl.-'UNI Y ON THE PLAIN. Dastd Brake