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Show Acting Alone Page 9Q beards. But soon his misapprehensions were straightened out. It must've been the first day of a new term, because ragged little anthropology majors soon started wandering in and out, wondering where their department had disappeared to, and mourning the loss of their beautiful building. Some of them asked the Elder directions as he stood there trying not to look like a child molester hanging around outside a school fence. He waited several minutes, puzzled at himself, and was about to leave and go look for the newly located anthropology department, when the wonderful, reassuringly symmetrical hand of Heavenly Father showed itself: the very youngster whom Elder Cicerone had been waiting for, the selfsame little wandering Jew from Salt Lake City whom the Elder had requested and gotten advance intelligence on, stumbled in, walked right up to the Elder, and commenced yelling foul language. "Fuck you, Grampa!" he yelled, apparently mistaking the Elder for a business professor. "I guess you think your money gives your department the right to co-opt our building. But what in Christ's name gave you the right to slice these high rooms in half horizontally? I suppose you've got twice as much floorspace and you're saving tons of money on heat. But it's ugly in here now. Crawling with capitalists and uglier than hell!" This youngster looked even more like Elder Cicerone's son in real life than in the photographs. They shared the same bugged eyes when yelling hysterically. But this young man was reputed to have the kind of brains that the Elder had always wanted his young wayward son Streckfus to have. And, of course, this young Jew's politics and self-esteem were on appropriate levels for the purposes at hand. His physical dimensions were just right, |