Quote:
Originally posted by Hank Chinaski
Atticus is a man I once knew,
he focuses on the subject of poo
posts he makes in detail
covering all matters fecal
actually he'd be better called Boo.
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Ah, the end of the Labor Day weekend. I remember returning to campus, catching up with everyone in the house, the night air beginning to feel crisp, like a salad bar. The air began to change as I went up the stairs and down the hall to a part of the house I'd never been before. The air just outside Hank's room was reminiscent of a 2-holer in a state park at the end of a holiday weekend.
I didn't bother knocking -- I knew I wouldn't be heard over the Ratt cranking on the stereo. I walked in to find Hank sitting lumpy and naked on a crusty recliner, absent-mindely connecting the moles on his stomach with a black felt tip pen.
"Think Eva'll like it? I'm worried that that Shamit Kachru bastard is moving in on my turf," Hank belched.
"Yeah, it's great. What is it?"
"It's her sign, man," he bellowed.
"What's her sign? Is she a Taurus?"
"No, it's a fucking dog, man. Chinese. She was born in the year of the dog. She's into string theory and shit. She's not into like, constellations and stuff. At least not since I found out she was a Cancer and told her we should go out since I have crabs," Hank said while digging his unkempt fingernails into and expanse of dense pubic hair. "That shit she says about zero and one-dimensional probes with N=8 supersymmetry gets me hot. Heh. 'Probes.'"
"Um, right," I said. "It a great dog. Hey, listen, I'm taking thermo this year. Somebody said your did pretty well. You think you might be able to help me out, like with some old tests or something?"
"Thermo? Piece of cake. Energy in a contained system, such as our universe, is constant. It can't be created or destroyed. But all that's bullshit, man. I can feel the energy being created in the room right now," he said professorially.
I was a little uncomfortable, though I am not sure it was from what he said so much as the additional stench as he raised an arm for another good scratch of his armpit, which he followed by looking at his fingernails. "I'm not sure I follow," I said.
"Look, it's like this:
It's about time for you to discover
The benefits of being a brother.
When it comes to fellatio
I have written a ratio
That shows one mouth is just like another," he explained limerickly.
Though his scientific logic was seductive, it was hard to swallow (please excuse the visual) while seeing his film-covered lips dart between his crusted lips.
"Hey, Hank, I'm not really up on this stuff, but isn't it true that heat can never pass spontaneously from a colder to a hotter body?"
"Oh, yeah. Good point," Hank managed to gurgle before passing out, a warm puddle darkening beneath him.
I was able to get into the Liberal Arts the next morning. Some help is just not worth having.
Thank you, Hank, for all that you do!
SS
'94, '96, 99L
Linear Mode
