Thursday December 9th, 2010

The exercise:

Today we're writing about: the professor.

Got some painting done today. The current plan is have all the painting finished by Monday night, at which point the laminate will begin to go down. And then we'll get the baseboards in. And then we shall move in.


"What did the professor call you in for?"

"I don't know."

"Maybe it's something good then?"

"No. The professor's reward for being good is to not call you into his office."

"That's true. Well, that last guy's been in there a while now. Maybe his hours will be over before he gets to us."

"Yeah, that'd be nice. So what did you do to get this dubious honor?"

"Fell asleep during his lecture."

"Oh. Oh dear. I've heard what he does to people that do that."

"Bah. That's just a stupid rumor. It can't possibly be true."

"Is that right? Well then, maybe we should check with the guy coming out of his office now. You know, the guy with his eyelids sown together?"


Greg said...

Moving in sounds like it'll be your best Christmas present this year!
I'm also very curious to know who's inspired this professor of yours, as he sounds like the kind of person I'd like.
The dialogue's good: snappy and believable, and like I say, I think I'd get on well with this professor ;-)

The Professor
"You know, we've not actually found a time period when that was slang, let alone current slang. Stop saying it."
"It's catchy, you know." Famine stretched out, his long, bone-thin legs sticking out in the aisle between the tables of the college dining room. On the table opposite all the food became suddenly inedibly salty.
"No, I don't know. And where's Pestilence got to?"
"He's gone to fetch the Professor, I think."
Friendly-fire picked a tooth-pick up off the table and inspected it. The air around its points glowed blue for a fraction of a second, then he flicked it across to another table.
"What's the Professor going to do? Spread scurvy?"
"You kids, don't they teach you anything in school? Scurvy's not contagious, unless you count not having any access to Vitamin C as contagion somehow, so scurvy falls under my remit. No, the Professor knows most about mythological entities and their reification. We're trying to figure out if we can bring war back without losing some of you guys?"
A squabble broke out at a table as one student accidentally stabbed another with an astonishly sharp toothpick.
"Some of us guys?" The emphasis in Friendly-fire's voice was expected.
"Yeah, you 'cause your teapot, Counter-Insurgency 'cause she's hot, and Good Intention 'cause it's nearly Christmas."
Two more students got involved in the brawl, and the toothpick poked someone's eye out.
"Stop saying teapot," muttered Friendly-fire.

Greg said...

Aargh! Please excuse the typos (of which "your" is inexcusable and what I get for changing the line halfway through when I'm in a hurry).


Marc said...

Greg - no inspiration in particular. Glad you like him though :)

Typos are excused, but only because you brought those two back again :D

summerfield said...

my kind of professor, too, marc. keeps you on edge and makes you force yourself to learn or you get embarrassed. and i had a feeling you'd be early tonight.

greg, the typo isn't so noticeable because i was enjoying the story.

the professor

Fasiloff leans his back on the brick wall outside the run-down building of St. Lawrence market. As he sucks at his cigarette, he scans the thick crowd of Friday afternoon shoppers and looks for someone he can “execute” with. It takes a good twenty minutes before he spots her. She has long hair, fair skin, a little on the fat side but otherwise attractive. Attractive and has an attitude. Fasiloff finds it easy to read her body language: the way she walks with her straight body, shoulders pushed back, arms slightly swaying, neck straight and the chin seemingly jutting forward, and the condescending look in her eyes. You know she has money by the quality of the clothes she’s wearing, no matter that she is just walking around the market, and the expensive watch on her wrist confirms that fact. Fasiloff knows the make, the model and brand of that watch, one of his talents. There is a shorter, darker woman following her, a large woven basket in her had. It is the maid. Fasiloff nods his head slightly.

He takes one last suck at his cigarette, looks both ways as he discards the half-smoked stick on the ground.

Jared alternates his gaze between Fasiloff on the other side of the street and the throng of shoppers walking past him. He sees Fasiloff casually eyeing one woman and when he sees him throw his cigarette away, he, too, makes his move towards the woman.

The woman stops to examine a large flowery robe hanging at one of the stalls. After saying something to the unseen vendor inside the stall, she lets go of the robe and purses her lips and slightly shakes her head. She continues to walk, giving all the goods a once over. The maid patiently follows her mistress. Fasiloff charges the shoppers until he reaches the woman and deliberately bumps into her with such force she almost fell. Jared, walking towards the same direction as Fasiloff but on the other side of the woman, catches her by her arm.

“You stupid idiot!” the woman yells as she tries to regain her balance, Jared still holding her.

“You the idiot,” Fasiloff barely looks at her and continues charging the crowd. This only makes the woman angrier and starts shouting expletives at him. Fasiloff flashes a finger.

“Are you okay?” Jared asks the woman who pushes him away and scowls at him.

“Go away!” she yells at him. Jared shakes his head and walks on.

The professor, watching from the window on the second floor of the old building, smiles as the woman goes about her shopping still fuming at the incident. In a few more minutes, Fasiloff knocks and enters the room smiling, the woman’s expensive watch dangling from his fingers.

“Wow! That was easy,” Fasiloff says smiling.

Jared enters the room and casually places a bulging Gucci wallet on the table.

The professor sits on the large arm chair, alternates his gaze between Fasiloff and Jared. He takes two index cards and hands them to the two young men.

Fasiloff gets a “A”. Jared gets an “A+”.

Zhongming said...

The professor

"Class, Please turn to page 155."

"hey you, what is the name of the planet?" he purposely ask this student because he is always day- dreaming. 

"It's one of the many planets in the universe."

"Are you dreaming again? Come to my office afterwards. I'll have some words with you.

"Knock knock" 

"what's wrong, prof?" he can't help but worried that the prof might scold him.

"I just want you to know that you're absolutely brilliant! That's the perfect answer that I'm yearning for... And you are awesome! You'll be leading the class as class monitor for the year. I shall announce this news during our next lesson. 

Marc said...

Summerfield - that was fantastic. Very nicely done :)

Zhongming - well that was definitely an unexpected ending!