I was just playing a game with my daughter & one of her dolls just now when I began making ventriloquist, fart-noises and moving the doll visually as if she was straining to expel the illicit fumes. My daughter found this very amusing.
I fell in love first with a little panda I named Tom. We grew up together and I cuddled Tom at night in bed. This went on for many years until the stuffing began to start coming out of Tom's face. I never saw anything the same way, after that experience.
Then some helpful, old person mentioned they'd once seen a cuddly toy that had maggots living it. I hid Tom in a drawer after that.
Elderly people, like my grandparents were always excellent at conveying, in this way, everything a young child needs. They told me about a woman who'd been accidentally stabbed in the face with an ink fountain pen and had got blood poisoning as the blue ink spread throughout the rest of her face until nobody could bear anymore to look at her. She wandered about the public park scaring children. I kept a constant eye out for her after that.
I also was told about a woman whose nose began to rot away one day until there was nothing but a huge hole in the middle of her face. She wasn't too attractive to look at, either. I wanted to know if snot still came out of the hole after her nose fell off, but I don't recall getting a straight answer eitherway.
Then there was the woman who went to Africa and contracted a huge swelling in her cheek which grew and grew until one night she awoke screaming as the boil exploded and she was covered in baby spiders.
My Grandfather spent many long mealtimes telling my sister and me all these stories. I never liked him much, or his stories.
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Professor Menschenchowder was apparently perusing the faculty herb garden, which has been under the care Dr Wheedon since the unveiling of our new conservatory, when the dastardly incident occured.
The herb area is part of our new winter garden complex, established for the entertainment of our esteemed, retired or disabled faculty professors.
Using this facility, originally sponsored by the Depends Foundation for retired academics, we're able to spend our spare time between classes visiting those upon whose shoulders we stand, to learn everything we can from them, in order that our pedagogy might be the best it can be. Incidentally, please substitute the commoner expression "teaching" for "pedagogy" if that word in any way threatens you.
Professor Menschenchowder, a fine gentleman of good standing in our community was apparently in the throes of cramming one of Dr Wheedon's fabulous "Moon-face Brownies" into his fizzog when another of our once-esteemed colleagues ran into glasshouse number 7. We first assumed that this junior academic, Dr Free had come to collegially greet our visitor, but things turned very nasty, very quickly.
Before we knew it, Dr Free appeared to be kneeling on
Professor Menschenchowder's chest and had his hands clasped at his throat. According to our later review of the establishment's CCTV records, Dr Free trembled shouting "you fucking, conniving, power-hungry, hypocritical, pseudo-marxist jerk!"
At the time, Professor Menschenchowder seemed to be mostly gasping for air, clearly shocked by the sudden actions of his young assailant.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Dr Free continued, as Professor Clash and I grabbed him and began pulling him off as the orderlies arrived with the chemical cosh.
"No!" I gestured to the orderlies to stand back. "We must first find out what has happened here!"
To be continued...
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A "Gonzo Lecture" is something that I often think about, especially the ways a lecturer could introduce some Gonzo methods into the academic world. In my own twisted sense of humour I have to admit my thoughts have yet to go beyond setting off fireworks at the back of the lecture hall and denouncing the rest of the faculty as a bunch of pigf****rs. (ed)
It seems wrong that the one place where fun is totally killed in college is in the lecture hall. Maybe if it started there, the students might actually turn up for a change. As The Good Doctor often said - "When it stops being fun, it is wrong."
