College of Human Ecology, Labor Relations & Dark Magic

At some point during the three hours I was sort of asleep, I saw Gary (that’s his fucking name, Gary the evil sorcerer) standing in the doorway creepily looking at me.  I could tell he was thinking about lying down next to me.  I told him if he came near me, I would twist his balls until he wished he had killed himself. 

In the morning I realized he probably wasn’t trying to fuck me.  He probably just wanted some human contact.  By the way, message to some of the commenters, don’t think guys don’t try to fuck me just because I’m not pretty.  Guys don’t give a shit what you look like.  There’s hundreds of calls a year to emergency services because some guy got his dick stuck in a mailbox or a tree.  Fucking savages. 

When I got up, Gary was sitting in his living room staring at nothing.  I told him it was time to go.  He asked what he needed to bring.  I said “just your wallet Mr. Millionaire because you’re buying”.  He said he needed his pills.  I told him he didn’t.  He started to pick up his gun for some ungodly reason and I told him we didn’t need a fucking gun to drive to El Paso.  Juarez?  Sure, bring a gun, but not El Paso. 

I was already regretting helping this guy.  All he did was whine like a bitch.  Being around him made me understand what having a kid must be like.  How can a practitioner of the dark arts be so lame? 

I left my POS Explorer behind, taking the wheel of Gary’s Range Rover Fifty Special Edition.  Hell yeah!  It was like driving a tank.  In a good way.  Gary looked like he was going to nod off.  I let him know that wasn’t on the menu.  I had a ten-hour drive ahead of me, on three crappy hours of sleep, and I wanted to know everything.  When he started telling me about his dumb ass childhood, I clarified that I meant everything about magic

When he said that he learned about magic at Cornell, I almost drove off the road.  I should have played it cool but instead I immediately asked him about the professor.  He said that the name sounded familiar but he didn’t know him.  He claims that he took a class in “Study of Paranormal Events”.  I guess this is a thing at colleges?  Sounds like a joke to me. 

Gary said the class was about Fortean events, cryptoarcheology, psychic phenomena, cattle mutilation and shit like that.  The class wasn’t about these things being real, it was about why people believed in them and the psychology behind belief.  But then one day the professor told him he could get a better grade if he came out to the woods with him and stood in a river and chanted.  Gary didn’t even think it was that weird.  I guess some university professors are pretty out there.   

Instead of a professor being weird, it was an invitation into a secret society.  Which is also a thing in colleges I learned.  They have names like Quill and Dagger, Skull and Bones, Sphinx Head, Der Hexenkreis.  They’re just rich deuce-aces jerking each other off in stupid outfits but this one involved real magic.  As Gary told me about it, I could see he was becoming increasingly alarmed.  I realized that he was scared because I was unconsciously laying on the gas the more he said.  I was going 120 when I came to my senses. 

I asked him if he was sure that Professor Name Will Not Be Spoken wasn’t part of this and he claimed that he was sure.  I had to pull over for a minute to think about it.  What are the chances of this being a coincidence?  How can there be two professors at Cornell doing magic that don’t know about one another?   

I don’t really know anything about the professor.  But just because he’s the first person I found who would talk to me about magic doesn’t mean he’s on my side.  He admitted he uses magic to make money for himself.  Just because he’s an old man with a Santa beard, that doesn’t preclude him from being evil.  Or just selfish.   

While I was stopped, Gary crawled into the back seat and went to sleep.  That time I let him.   

Published by sopantooth

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