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Monday, March 21, 2005

1st Night of the Revolt

What exactly would I find to pass the time during my nocturnal rebellion? About midnight when the clock strikes signifying my usual retreat into the bedsheets, I found myself waiting, leaning against some bricks for my friend, Will, to walk out. The campus lights are still beaming, but there is this quaint hushness that seals the night in a crouching, expectant frivolity .
Will Dockery works from 10-12pm every weekday night in the administration building. His voice is the voice that you hear if ever you call the information desk during these hours. Usually, I stop by and we chat and laugh, and occassionally our revelry is halted by a phone-call where Will descends back into his work mode giving, usually, the anxious boy the phone number of the girl that he is pursuing through the phone lines.
-But this particular night, I refrained from going so early and ended up deciding to swing by at about the same exact time that Will would be walking out. Now, Will, I must add, is awkwardly jumpy. One time, I walked through his front door while he and his wife were watching TV, for just a little hello, and the boy nearly fell over his coffee table in fright. His wife had to console him for a minute or two while they both mumbled something about they watching a case about house theifs on 20/20 as I barged in. I grinned and apologized very bleakly.
Now, I remembering this, wondered what would happen if I actually tried to scare him. So, there I leaned against the brick wall, waiting for him to descend the steps in this campus alley on the way to his car. I stood in wait, senses attuned to the slightest hint of his approachment. I waited and waited and to my ears not a sound of the door's opening could be heard. It must have been well after his time to clock off, I thought.
So, I sprinted around the building to the other side, looking up at the 2nd floor to see if the light in his room was still gleaming. It was. "He must be really into one of those frisbee websites..." I surmised. I then thought that I will just scare him inside. But I had to sneak inside the building to do so. Usually, I throw sticks at his window, letting him know its I, and he then rushes down and lets me in. But this time, that wasn't an option. So, I snook in through the back stage door, for this building just so happens to be the old theatre house with an old stage. I managed to get in, by crawling through one of the stage doors. The lights were bright and burning on center stage...there were many props and costumes and stage structures laying around, for the theatre class was in the process of some regular wacked-out production of theirs. I jumped off stage and through the aisles I ran to the lobby. And then climbed the stairs as quiet as a mouse. Yes, still there...the light beamed from under the office door. I then began to cut off all the lights, upstairs one by one. And then sat, crouched waiting in the darkness for him to emerge from the office door. I had to dodge security for a moment ducking into the restroom and making a slight noise that let Will know that I wasn't alone, I finally emerged again, seeing that the host was clear and reclaimed my crouching spot.
Sitting in the dark in such an old building is not a whole lot of fun, rumors and stories began to fill my mind, some really told, some I made up. At Harding there is this ghost story about a bride who died just after her wedding. Her spirit is said to haunt some of these old buildings. As I tried to force out these images, my mind flashed back to props and costumes that my eyes took in when I passed by coming through the building. I then, decided to let Will experience firsthand what I was experiencing in my imagination. I ran back towards the stage, seeing what creepy stage props I could find. I grabbed a white feminine sheet, that would do just fine as a bridal dress. And then I rushed over to find a bundled up baby doll...I don't know how this fits in the story...but it certainly gives one the chills looking at it. And finally, my eyes scanned over to the headless, female torso dressing mannequin in the corner. Wallah! I had myself the ingredients to a night that Will Dockery will never forget. I even had my selection of torsos. I grabbed one and ran, my arms full with all these grotesque items, hoping that he was still in that room. I kept rehearsing over in my mind, these words, screaming in a high shrill voice, "Where's my husband?!!"
However, just as I barged, into the lobby, Oh No!...he was coming down two minutes too early. I yelled hoping, that at least I can still make him startled a little. At this point Will sees me running out of the theatre carrying, most bizarrely, a female mannequin's torso and some other junk as I yell, and he of course still jumps clutching his heart. -And so, as you see, the full plans of my scare were completely ruined. And then, I went laughing hysterically over how scared he would've been had I succeeded, he just chided me calling me a jerk and an idiot, and saying how he was scared enough without my other equipment, that he had to go to that bathroom as it was; it definitely would have wet his pants had he waited 2 minutes more. Well, that was the collapse of some really good prank...and I bet he'll be suspecting me every night henceforth.
After that, I grabbed a scholarly book that I checked out from the library about poetic influence, and the anxiety for poets to recreate from the world of their imaginations, something that will still shock the outside world, my back against the brick wall of the same place outside where I first waited for him.


Blogger hsp said...

You know, Cosmo Kramer once decided that he would only take naps, instead of sleeping hours at a time. He had this theory that he too would become more productive, be able to accomplish more, trully be a help to society. Ok, maybe I don't completely remember all of the episode, but I do know that the whole "nap" idea didn't produce the results he thought it would. I hope you are more successful than Kramer was. It sounds like you are at least enjoying yourself. Who knows, maybe you will use this time to write a book or take up the oboe.

9:06 AM  
Blogger Jesi said...

I particularly enjoyed your use of the word "snook."

7:32 AM  
Blogger Brian Harrison said...

Yeah, I sometimes wind up writing the way words sound, insted ov the waye it iz aktwallee spelld. Pleeze exkuze this tendinsee.

9:24 AM  
Blogger папа said...

With the awesome mind that refuses the standard relaxation from 11:00 to 7:00 and which continually reveals the unimaginable, it would seem that this incredible mass of imagery might actually picture the possibilities of a good joke gone bad. Perhaps the thought of the aforementioned security guard shooting first and asking questions later, or of a good and loyal friend's very own heart spark disappearing from fright, leaving him sprawled on the dark floor of the theater, a widowed wife, and a future untold. What a possibility of sorrow and pain could emerge from the very center of a humorous, but not practical joke. Be ye careful. Accidents happen and sometimes they are unrevolkable.

7:03 PM  

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