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Show PI PHI INTERMEZZOMay second was a beautiful night. Cool Mediterranean breezes blew off the Bonneville level across the Pi Phi lawn. I stood pensively puffing on my herring-I always smoke herrings. Herrings have such a lovely pink odor. Having cut the final star and crescent in the outhouse, I was torn away from Clawson "Quick" Silver and Wayward "Red" Handed by the shrill screams of some damsel in distress. Being one who always loved orange teas and county fairs, I donned my armour, put my smoked herring in locker No. 13. I never have been superstitious-No. 13 was my father's locker-dear old dad, he was such a pansy.Anyways I jumped on my I very-Johnson bike and forthwith galloped away. Night after night I rode, day after day I rode, by the left flank,by the right flank, until I reached the other side of the lawn.At last I spied the hapless maid counting the peach stains in a rootbeer stand with a nest of robins in her hair. It wasn't to my surprise to see Earl "Pierre" Coppock jump out of the robin's nest. Pierre of all people--that Barbarian. It had not been many years since I had fought throat to throat and cup to saucer with this villain on the poop-deck of the "Nos-taglia." Under the pale cold, spell of a waning south sea moon, we played peas-porridge-hot until blood dripped from the awful heights of the third floor of the Union Building and our fingernails became warped and unpolished. And I always prided myself, you remember, on theThunderbolt strikes closet! Inmates fight for air!Pearl White and faithful maid, Craig Kennedyare shown foiling the Clutching Hand.Watch for next episode.340 |