Monday, September 4, 2023

In Which Our Heroes Must Squeeze Money From Undergraduates.



Our Players:
Professor V. Ished: A former academic harboring dangerous opinions about the Dewey decimal system.
Luigi: Master of combat with a roaming accent.




 The Shortgate Student Accommodations, formerly the Shortgate Penitentiary Institution, loomed before the two men. 


Well, began Luigi, do you have the names? 

Yes, of course, grumbled Professor Ished. Of course I do. 


The two stared at the words, a leftover from the buildings tenure as a prison, carved above the double doors. Learn From Your Mistakes, it read.



Still works, thought the professor. 


What are the names, then, asked Luigi.


Oh. Rudolph and Hubert. 


And their last names?


None provided.


They convinced the drug-fuddled resident advisor that the Professor was showing Luigi, posing as a transfer student, to his dorm. There were three Rudolph’s the RA was aware of. The first lived on the top floor, and was caught in flagrante delicto with a teacher. Professor Ished and his semi-nude counterpart stared daggers at each other, looks fraught with tension and loaded with questions about tenure. But this was not the right Rudolph. The heroes did manage to squeeze some hush money out of the wrong Rudolph’s lover. 


Two floors down, still in search of the right Rudolph, the two men found the Dean of Engineering had rented all of the rooms out to construction workers and their families. Luigi was shocked. Professor Ished was nonplussed. Dean Hoog was clearly an old hand at supplementing his meager income. 


Another floor down, and the right Rudolph. However, the right Rudolph was umpiring a match of the Bayern University Dueling Society. Lacking protective gear and not expecting trouble, Luigi walked face first into an errant hurled bomb. Sensing trouble, Rudolph took flight, but Luigi drew upon the training of his profession and nimbly dove through the air, landing a swift chop between his quarry’s shoulders.  


It was time for a conversation.


Rudolph knew immediately that these two were from the Bursar. He was quick to assure them that he had the missing tuition money, he simply did not have it currently. As he was umpiring the Dueling Club matches, he was using his position to help himself and some select members of the wagering public. He assured Ished and Luigi that he would have his tuition by the evening, offering the pair to make a bet on the sure outcome. Scanning the meager room, Luigi’s eyes settled on an urn with the word Mum, written on it. 


You have till seven, Luigi growled, Mum’s coming with us in case you try to skip out on us.


And that was half their list mostly sorted. 


They met back up with the RA, now gently snoring in a hammock. They waited patiently as he struggled out of it. 


Do you know a Hubert, asked Professor Ished. 


I’m Hubert, said the RA. Or is there another one?


Is there another one?


Another who?


Another Hubert.


Like a clone? The RA seemed very concerned. Like they cloned me? 


Yes, they assured him. Most likely they have. Whoever they are. 


What do you want to see me, or him, or is about?


Tuition. 


Did he not pay it, asked this-Hubert.


After more confusing conversation, the three of them agreed that If that-Hubert had or had not paid his tuition was not their concern. This Hubert was on the the list, and it was this Hubert’s tuition that needed paying.


But I did pay it, he insisted. I mailed it. 


This was of course, not the case. In this-Hubert’s desk was a large manila envelope, stuffed full of coins and covered with stamps. 


Well, perhaps I did not mail it. 



Ished and Luigi collected the money, dropped it off at the Bursars, and sat around drinking tepid coffee on the broken chairs of the waiting room. 


Well, Ished said after a while. Bout that time? Luigi filled a pocket with soot from the cold fireplace. Ished shot him a look. In case he needs convincing, Luigi explained. 


He did not. With barely a word, Rudolph shoved a pile of gold into their hands, snatched his urn back, and showed the door as politely as he dared to two men from the Bursars office.


Back in their rented rooms, the two of them looked at the small pile of money in front of them. It was nearly a thousand pounds. Logic dictated that they should turn it over to their creditor. But it was not often that they had spare coin. Maybe they would keep it around for a while.


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