Corey Feldman's Illegitimate Son, Part Two (673 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 2 on 4 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Enraged Baboon (View user info) at 2005-04-04 12:31:17 EDT
CHAPTER TWO
(Chapter 1 @ http://www.ubersite.com/m/63461)
I
Alarms are sounding in a bunker underneath the Harvard University Archives. Exactly 100% of Harvard's 2,400 acceptance letters have been replaced with rejection letters. Rejection letters that are un-Harvard-like. Rejection letters that say "back that ass up" in 72 point Times New Roman. Professors are worried, administrative staff are frantic. A squadron of 600 rescue cars was dispatched forty minutes ago to intercept the letters. The constant alarms are the sound of 600 rescue cars signifying their complete and utter failure to execute even a single, simple order. Everybody ran out of fuel. Harvard University President Lawrence H. Summers is fuming. He knows foulplay is afoot. What are the odds of 600 cars running out of fuel at the same time? It's preposterous. 599 is possible, but never 600.
Word spreads quickly in a place like Harvard's secret underground command room. A secretary sidles up, carrying a phone on a platter made from melted-down Nobel trophies. Lawrence answers the phone.
"Lawrence, old chum, we're in a spot of trouble. The Standies have nabbed our students."
It's Lord Hardgrave. He's visiting from The University of Oxford, where his job is top secret and quite unknown to everyone in the world except those who read the next sentence. Lord Hardgrave is an academic spy. His mission, should he choose to accept it (which he obviously has), is to protect the Justice Academic League's interests. The Justice Academic League is a group of universities, non-government organizations, and charities dedicated to world peace. Their mascot, for some reason, is the sloth. A few Justice Academic League scholars argue the sloth is a noble and, therefore, magical animal. Others ignore the ignominy of having a sloth as their mascot and move on with life. Lawrence H. Summers is part of the latter crowd.
"Really, the Stanford name has become so odious of late."
Lawrence drops the phone and strokes his chin. The entire incoming class has been stolen, nabbed away by the thieving Standies. The season hasn't started this badly for his instution since Yale managed to mole George W. Bush into the Harvard Business School. The bureaucrats at Justice HQ will have Lawrence's job if something isn't done, but something is about to be done.
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II
Salem Johnson smokes a lot of pot. His hobbies include Xbox, McDonalds, and couching. Couching is the art of sitting on a couch. Not many people classify McDonalds as a hobby, but Salem does. Salem is the type of person who would fit in well at The University of California, Santa Cruz. He knows this because he's been there for four years. Now it's the end, closing call. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here--or some other Semisonic song. Salem is graduating. There is absolutely no reason for Salem to attend graduate school or find a job, because his father is a descendent of James Wood Johnson. You know, co-founder of Johnson and Johnson? As a joke, Salem had applied to one school. He hasn't had a reply, and isn't surprised, because he didn't even bother to make his father bribe some officials.
Salem's mind is blank as he smokes the last dusty. Dusties are the holy grail of marijuana smoking, and are only attainable via the use of a coffee grinder or some similar automatic chopping mechanism. Scissors won't do. The weed has to be whipped within an inch of its life, so its particles are like dust. The process inevitably involves some wastage, since small chunks of plant matter are lost within the device's mechanisms. Dusty aficionados agree, however, that the waste is worth it. The end result is bud so finely chopped that about twice the amount fits into the bowl. Additionally, the small particle size maximizes surface area, leading to a quicker and more complete combustion.
Okay, It's false to say nothing is on Salem's mind. His mind is quite active and focused, upon the subject of Iguanas (specifically, how good they are). Salem owns three types of iguanas: Dipsosaurus Dorsalis, Ctenosaura Similis, and the imaginatively titled Iguana Iguana. The latter is your classic green iguana. Salem is thinking that the traditional green is a good color for an iguana but that his personal tastes tend toward the black iguana, now known to us as Ctenosaura Similis. Owning three types of iguana might seem excessive, and knowing Salem owns five of each might make some think he's eccentric, but to Salem it's just a passing fancy. Next week it will be a small breed of monkey, or a system to reliably beat the house at blackjack. Salem considers monkeys for a while, but decides iguanas are better for now. Iguanas and chips. The last thought on his mind is the possibility that the school he applied to accidently rejected all its incoming class and is about to mail out a second round of offers.
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III
Lawrence H. Summers is finishing the new list of offers. The last name is Salem C. Johnson. "What a lucky guy," thinks Lawrence, making the best of what is possibly the end of his career. In walks the nobel secretary.
"Lawrence, dear, Oversight would like to see you."
The Justice Oversight Committee is apparently unaware that its name can be interpreted in two ways. Apart from that, it is extremely powerful. It oversees all Justice Academic League operations. Its chairman is Warren Buffett. Warren Buffett is a generous man, but Warren Buffett wants results. Warren Buffett didn't get where Warren Buffett is by not having results. Lawrence has no results, at least no results Warren would like. The incoming class of Justice League's flagship institution includes a goddamn potsmoker named Salem, for Christ's sake. The look on Lawrence's face suggests he isn't so much opposed to the potsmoking but is secretly bitter about Salem's dad not even donating $100,000. An observer could tell this because Lawrence is clutching a pointer and jabbing it at a giant scribble of a dollar sign. Apparently done with the gesturing, Lawrence dons his coat and leaves for a flight to Justice HQ.
User Reviews
Submitted by Professional_Peon (user info) at 2005-04-04 15:13:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Rejection letters that say "back that ass up" in 72 point Times New Roman.
*giggles*
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2005-04-04 13:56:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by knucklesnelson (user info) at 2005-04-04 13:39:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Will we see part three as well today?
Submitted by BedOfHog (user info) at 2005-04-04 13:00:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Is this supposed to have intertwined stories? +2 because Enraged Baboon is the shit.