Thursday, February 11, 2010

Some Forrester Shit.

The scene opens with our main character, John Richard Lennon sitting at his desk. The walls are lined with books- such authors as Proust, Kerouac, Vonnegut, Tolstoy, Steinbeck, Sedaris and many, many others are represented. Our main character sits and has one hand in his short, black, thinning hair. His elbow is rested on the desk, and he stares indifferently at his computer screen.
knock knock
Farrell: Excuse me, hello, uh… Professor Lennon?

JRL: Yes, and you are?

Farrell: well hi there! My name is Farrell McKenna

JRL: with a tight smile Hey, how can I help you?

Farrell: Oh yea, well hey, I uh... just declared myself as an English major, and you were recommended as an advisor, so I thought I’d come and see what you’re all about. emits a genuine chuckle.

JRL: Oh, ok. Well, Farrell I’m afraid that I can be of no assista–

Farrell: Ya see, the thing I’m looking for is closes office door behind him sort of a close relationship, ya know? Cause uh… Writing is this sacred, sacred act to me, and uh… I can’t really have a professional and formal relationship with my advisor, cause that just won’t work! I read some of your stuff at the library, and to be honest, you’ve got some good shit. I was really into that shit, honestly, and I was thinking to myself, “Fuck! This dude knows what he’s doing!” So, I just ran over here and I had all these ideas–

JRL: Look, Farrell. First of all, hold on. This is no way to make a good impression. You just barged into my office and began demonstrating the definition of logorrhea(condescendingly), when you’re supposed to be demonstrating cordiality. If you had let me finish my sentence, as is expected amongst courteous adults, you would have learned that I am actually functioning far beyond my limit this semester. I am currently advising three others, and am teaching two lectures! As you can see, I can be of no assistance.

Farrell: uncomfortable, Oh, uh… I apologize sir, I was just under the impression, from reading your literature that you were a cool guy and would appreciate my stuff or something. Here, in case things change, I’ll just leave this with you… places a stack of crisp papers on JRL’s desk and starts backing up with an awkward smile.

JRL: It is indubitable that things won’t change, however I appreciate the interest. You may go. Flicking wrist as if shoeing Farrell out his office.

Farrell: You know what, dude? You’re a real asshole. In your books, you talk just like me and shit, but here you’re just another pretentious little fuck like the rest of the English department. Shit, now that I know, I’m glad as fuck you don’t have enough time, you’re boring as shit!

JRL: incredulous How dare you speak to a member of the Cornell University faculty in such a way! Never in my experience have I encountered such utter disrespect for a superior’s sta–
Farrell slams door
The loud thud resounds in the small office in Goldwin Smith Hall. Our main character, John Richard Lennon is on his feet, still has his pointer finger directed at the spot that was just occupied by the rebellious and indignant Farrell McKenna. After a few seconds, he lowers his finger and shakes his head. He plops down in his chair, sighs and runs his right hand through his hair. He takes a long drink from his Bloomsday mug that he bought in Dublin last fall, and looks over at the crisp stack of papers left behind by Farrell McKenna. Out of curiosity, out of whatever fucking reason, our main character picks up the papers and puts on his spectacles. He leans back in his chair and holds the work in front of his face.

JRL: Oh shit. Holy fuck! JRL’s eyes hungrily and voraciously eat the words on the page. He desperately flicks each page over as he finishes it, and the staple holding them all together nearly perishes in the process. As he arrives at the last page–breathless and sweating– he sees a phone number and an e-mail address. JRL lunges for the phone.


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