a practiced twist of the wrist he smashed it against the floor.
“Pretty boy,” he hissed as he advanced slowly forward, the jagged edges held at ready, “you ain’t going to be any longer.”
Lippencott stood his ground, but not very long. “Listen, Albert,” he said nervously as he recoiled a step. “You’re not acting like a gentleman.”
“There’s a good reason for that,” said Albert, sliding closer with a horrible grin on his face. “I ain’t no gentleman.”
Without warning, his arm flashed out. It was only by grace of excellent reflexes and a great deal of luck that Lippencott was able to preserve his nose. It was too much. He let out a frightened howl and turned to run, but there wasn’t any place to run to. The door was locked and Albert had him backed into a corner.
“You touch me and I’ll report you to the administration,” he whimpered as the jagged edges of the broken bottle came closer and closer to his face.
Albert chuckled. “Who’d believe you? Everybody knows what a mouse of a guy I am.”
That did it. Lippencott cracked completely and sobbed promise after promise. Albert waited until he’d heard the words he wanted and then tossed the bottle end crashing against the wall.
“Just don’t forget.” He said as he swaggered out. “There’s a coke machine in every building on the campus.”
6
When Albert came into the English office, the gongs were still beating inside his head. He was informed by the secretary that the chairman was in conference—which meant that he was taking his daily two-hour nap on the rather bumpy divan he had brought back from his student quarters at Oxford. Albert didn’t say anything, he just slapped her attractive posterior in a flattering way and, as she stood gasping, barreled into the inner sanctum and slammed the door behind him.
Ten minutes passed before he emerged. When he did the secretary was waiting for him with a melting smile. He gave her another spank and gestured toward the inner office.
“Boss man wants to see you, kiddo. He’s got a few memos to dictate. He’s changed his mind about dropping my Middle English courses. The one I want you to get right out, though, is the recommendation for promotion.” He flicked again and she ran squealing into Dr. Quimbat’s office.
Dr. Quimbat was somewhat the worse for wear. He started to babble something about a coke bottle but then regained enough of his senses to think better of it and dictate what had to be dictated.
There was company waiting for him in Albert’s own office. As soon as the door was shut, Whooping Water gave the little finger wiggle that was necessary to banish Mike Hammer.
“Want another shot before your date tonight? Mike’s been doing all right by you so far.”
Albert shuddered and shook his head. “No thanks! Every time she cuddles up to me I start getting ideas.”
“What’s wrong with that? You’re a big boy now, and she isn’t exactly a spring chicken.”
“It’s not that I’m objecting to. These ideas involve an erotic transference from the usual areas to her stomach. And that isn’t all. I keep wanting to go out and buy a big .45.”
“I see what you mean,” said Whooping Water.
“So, thanks for everything. I’m going to be needing your help later today but there’s no use your hanging around here until then.”
“I’m dismissed?”
“You’re dismissed.”
When Whooping Water disappeared this time, he did it by slow stages. First his epidermis became transparent, and then bit by bit the rest of him faded out until there was nothing left but a stomach, a pair of lungs, and an intricately coiled large intestine, all hanging motionless in mid-air.
Without Hammer to back him up, Albert found himself growing nauseated. “Please,” he gulped. “I’ve had about all I can take for one day.”
The lungs contracted and a little snicker came from the air above them. Then slowly, much too slowly, the viscera faded from sight.
Albert had just put his feet up on his desk for the first time in his academic career when there was a knock on the door and Dick Martinelli, State’s star quarterback, came diffidently in.
“No!” said Albert before the football player could get in a word.
“Wait a minute, doc,” protested the other in an injured voice. “I ain’t asking for no free ride. I just want one of them there retests.”
“You want what!”
“A re-test. I went and read the book.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, I did. I’m going over to the drugstore to see if there’s any new Spillane in, but there ain’t. And while I’m looking over the pocket book rack to see if there’s anything else that looks interesting, I sees a picture on a cover that makes me damn near drop my teeth. So I grabs it, and you know what?”
“What?” said Albert obediently.
“When I gets home I find I went and bought a copy of this here Canterbury Tales which I’m supposed to be reading for your course but don’t because I take a look the first day and it’s full of funny words. Only this time I start looking through to see if I can find the part they got the picture on the cover from and WOW!”
“Wow?”
“Yeah, WOW!” Martinelli sniggered. ‘There’s stuff in there that I don’t see how they let it get printed. Like for example there’s one place where a guy climbs up a ladder to try and make a gal whose husband is supposed to be out of town and—”
“I have a certain familiarity with the story in question,” said Albert. “Suppose you let me ask the questions.”
“Sure thing, doc. Shoot!”
“Give me a precis of ‘The Reeve’s Tale.’”
Martinelli gulped. “A what?”
“A precis—an abstract, a summary, a…well, just tell me what happened.”
“Why didn’t you say so in the first place? Well, there were a couple of guys who were going to Oxford or some place like that and they got a couple of days off. So they’re hitchhiking around and they happen to bump into this miller, see? And he’s got a good-looking wife and a daughter who’s really stacked. So that night while the old man’s asleep, these guys…”
When Martinelli came back there was a happy smile on his face.
“I took your note about my grade change by the Dean’s office and he says I’m eligible again. Then I went over to the library for the book you wanted but the gal at the desk couldn’t help me. She said one copy was lost and the other was at the bindery.”
“Oh well,” said Albert. “I’ll find a copy some place. At least
