By: Eric Tyndale

For weeks now, low flying birds have been wreaking havoc on the outdoor bus waiting areas of York Lanes. Students are being forced to keep a constant weary eye to the sky in order to avoid being pelted in the head by reckless birds flying extremely low to the ground.

It was approximately 4:37pm on September 12^th when Angela Martin’s left earlobe was struck violently by a humming bird traveling at a high rate of speed. Her great-grandmothers priceless ivory earring, which she was wearing at the time, was knocked off and has yet to be recovered by Toronto Police.

“It’s really getting ridiculous,” says Martin, a 3^rd year Women’s Studies major. “I can’t even read in line for the bus anymore. I just stand there nervously…getting ready to duck.”

The incident came on the heels of an equally scary report that took place one week earlier. Stanley Hudson, a 2^nd year undecided major, was standing in line for the 196A and selecting a song on his brand new I-Phone when it was knocked out of his hand by an overzealous budgie trying to get to a hot dog bun crumb that had fallen to the ground.

The I-Phone shattered upon impact. Several mechanical engineering students in the area scrambled to reassemble the device, but to no avail. Stanley has said York Administration has been uncooperative in his attempt to be compensated for the damage.

“We make it very clear on our website that students are responsible for ensuring that all valuables are held onto tightly while waiting in the York Lanes bus area,” said Sid Farkus, director of public relations for the York Aviary Department.

“In the meantime we have established a fowl danger level of orange and should a cardinal be spotted that level will be upgraded to red. Students will be updated accordingly.”

Mr. Farkus has also advised students not to carry bright Lululemon handbags which are known to agitate and attract birds of a smaller variety. Also if possible it is a good idea to stand near a squirrel, as birds often do not want to be near squirrels.

Of course the scariest incident took place on September 30^th. Kevin Malone had just stepped off the GO Bus from Brampton for his evening class when a seemingly nervous and erratic Blue Jay collided with his scalp. Kevin was knocked unconscious and had to be taken to an area hospital.

Kevin was not immediately available for comment, due to being unconscious. Experts however were shocked, as that kind of power and accuracy has not been exhibited by a Toronto Blue Jay in many years. Kevin was marked as absent for that class.

The event sent York Security scrambling to rooftops, pouring out all available bird seed in a desperate effort to convince the birds to fly higher. A written evaluation of the plan has not yet been completed, but will soon be published and available for purchase at the York Bookstore.

“Angry Turkeys and Unimpressed Adults”

Written by Eric Tyndale

Angry Turkeys and Unimpressed Adults

INT. SHAWN’S APARTMENT – TEASER

(Shawn, Danny, Floyd, Wade, Frank, Arthur, Richard, Dean)

SHAWN and DANNY are about to compete against FLOYD and WADE in the first round of their Nintendo Wii tennis tournament.

MONTAGE:

1. Shawn bounces a pretend ball, takes dead aim at the TV and flails his arm for a virtual serve.
2. Floyd jumps over the couch and swings wildly to return the virtual ball.
3. Danny dives face first into the coffee table in a desperate attempt to return the shot.
4. Shawn proudly writes in his teams name on the next round of the bracket chart.
5. New game. ARTHUR body checks RICHARD into the wall so he can’t hit his shot.
6. DEAN throws the bowl of chips into FRANK’S eyes.
7. Richard puts Arthur in a headlock and cover’s his eyes.
8. Dean’s team moves on to the finals.
9. The final game. All four players dripping with sweat.
10. Dean accidentally slams his arm into the ceiling fan. Yelling in pain.
11. Slow motion. Everyone watching. Danny runs across the room and swings with everything he has. The Wii controller goes flying out of his hand, smashes into the wall, and falls to the ground.

SHAWN

…I guess we’re done.

EXT. GOLF DRIVING RANGE – DAY

(Shawn, Danny, Dean, Wade, Disinterested Instructor)

Shawn, Danny, Dean and Wade are standing in a row hitting golf balls. Their DISINTERESTED INSTRUCTOR stands behind them playing with his blackberry.

Dean hits a perfect shot. Wade WHIFFS his shot and his ball rolls just ten feet in front of him.

WADE

(to Instructor) Ahh! Why does that keep happening!?

The Instructor types on his Blackberry without looking up.

DISINTERESTED INSTRUCTOR

Head down.

SHAWN

I can’t believe you’re a T.A.

You don’t look like a jackass.

DANNY

There aren’t many options once you

get to grad school.

SHAWN

Dean isn’t a T.A.

DANNY

Dean is in medical school. Plus

his scholarship practically pays

him to attend.

DEAN

Practically.

DANNY

I’m just worried the students will

figure out how unqualified I am.

Wade tops another shot and angrily slams his club into the ground.

WADE

For god sakes! Dean, what am I

doing wrong?

SHAWN

(to Danny)I’m sure it will take them a while.

DEAN

(to Wade)I wasn’t watching. Hit

another one.

DANNY

(to Shawn) How’s this job going?

SHAWN

Not exactly scriptwriting but it’s slightly creative.

Wade hits a ball off the toe of his club and it rockets sideways into the metal divider beside him. The GOLFER beside him grabs his clubs and hurries away.

DISINTERESTED INSTRUCTOR

Careful please.

Dean launches a picture perfect drive as the others watch in frustration. Even the Instructor looks up from his blackberry

DISINTERESTED INSTRUCTOR

Woah.

SHAWN

Dean, why are you even here?

DEAN

I don’t know. (Pause) I like you

guys.

INT. CHRISTINA’S HOUSE – NIGHT

(Danny, Christina, Mrs. Cogliano)

Danny rings the doorbell. Christina opens the door.

DANNY

Ready?

CHRISTINA

Have to grab my purse.

Christina walks out of the room as her mom, MRS. COGLIANO, 50s, walks in to see who is at the door.

MRS. COGLIANO

Oh, hi Danny. Did you want to come—

DANNY

I’m good thanks. (To Christina off-screen) Come on, let’s go!

MRS. COGLIANO

Looking forward to being a T.A?

DANNY

We’ll see I guess.

Christina hurries back with her purse.

CHRISTINA

Alright, alright. Goodnight mom.

MRS. COGLIANO

Have a good time. Good luck with the new job Danny.

INT. DANNY’S CAR – CONTINUOUS

(Danny, Christina)

DANNY

What do you want to do tonight?

CHRISTINA

You could be a bit nicer to my mom.

DANNY

It’s hard to be nice when you know someone hates you.

CHRISTINA

She doesn’t—

Danny turns up the volume on the radio.

DANNY

Great song!

INT. FLOYD AND WADE’S APARTMENT – NIGHT

(Floyd, Wade)

Watching National Geographic. FLOYD pokes angrily at his pint of ice cream with a spoon.

FLOYD

My ice cream is always too frozen.

I can’t get any out.

WADE

Heat up the spoon.

FLOYD

How?

WADE

Microwave?

FLOYD

You can’t microwave a spoon.

WADE

Why not?

FLOYD

You aren’t supposed to

put metal in a microwave.

WADE

That’s tinfoil.

FLOYD

So, you’ve done this?

WADE

I don’t eat ice cream.

Floyd walks to the microwave and places the spoon inside.

FLOYD

How long should I set it for?

WADE

Not long. Three minutes maybe.

INT. UNIVERSITY TUTORIAL CLASSROOM – MORNING

(Danny, his Students)

Danny is at the front of the classroom fiddling with the PowerPoint projector. His first year UNIVERSITY STUDENTS growing increasing impatient. He pushes a button and the screen projection on the wall turns blue and shuts down.

DANNY

The equipment doesn’t seem to

to co-operating today. I’ll just put some of the main points on the board.

Danny picks up a piece of chalk. He presses it into the blackboard, it breaks in half, and the two pieces fall to the ledge. He gingerly picks up one of the small broken pieces and begins to write.

AGGRIVATED OVER-ACHIEVER

Question!

DANNY

Sure.

AGGRIVATED OVER-ACHIEVER

It says in the syllabus that there

is going to be a group assignment.

DANNY

I’m going to get into that

more in the coming weeks. It won’t

make a lot of sense to you guys

right now.

AGGRIVATED OVER-ACHIEVER

I’d rather know now. I hate group assignments, so I might drop the course depending on what it is.

GIRL 1 casually passes a folded note to GIRL 2. Girl 2 reads it, looks at Danny and giggles.

DANNY

I wouldn’t drop the course over

it. Many times in your life you’ll have to work with people in a group—

AGGRIVATED OVER-ACHIEVER

My dad never works in groups—

OVER EAGER STUDENT 1

Can we pick our groups today?

DANNY

No, not—

Danny starts writing again. A STUDENT WITH NO PAPER sits starring at the points on the blackboard. Danny eyes him.

DANNY

Don’t you want to write this down?

STUDENT WITH NO PAPER

Oh it’s ok. I’m going to drop this

class.

DANNY

Why did you come?

STUDENT WITH NO PAPER

I’m not 100% sure yet that

I’m dropping.

DANNY

Then shouldn’t you—

OVER EAGER STUDENT 2

Is this going to be on the exam?

DANNY

The professor won’t write the exam questions for another couple of months. To be safe, I would take notes on everything for—

AGGRIVATED OVER-ACHIEVER

I don’t want to take notes on

crap that won’t be on the exam.

A confused and sloppily dressed STUDENT WITH SKATEBOARD opens the door and looks down at a schedule in his hand.

STUDENT WITH SKATEBOARD

Is this Biology 1100?

DANNY

No, sorry.

The Student smiles and ducks back out of the room.

DANNY

Now if there’s one main point I

want to get across to you about

theory for this course it’s—

The Student with the Skateboard opens the door again.

STUDENT WITH SKATEBOARD

Is this Political Science 1350?

DANNY

…Yes.

STUDENT WITH SKATEBOARD

Perfect.

He puts his bag down, takes a seat and leans back casually.

Girl 2, looking more serious now, passes a folded note to Girl 1. Danny angrily reaches out and intercepts it.

DANNY

I certainly hope this is as funny as the last one. (Unfolds and quickly reads) “My parents are getting a divorce and I think I might be pregnant.”

Uncomfortable silence in the room until The Student with the Skateboard laughs.

DANNY

(to Skateboard Student)Since you were late, you should try to find someone’s notes to borrow

after class.

STUDENT WITH SKATEBOARD

Oh it’s cool. I’m dropping this

class anyway.

INT. SHAWN’S KITCHEN – NIGHT

(Shawn, SHAWN’S MOM)

Insert: A Lesson from Mom

Shawn and his MOM are in front of his kitchen counter. Cooking show style.

SHAWN’S MOM

So today we’ll be making a grilled-cheese sandwich.

SHAWN

Sounds great. It’s such a common

snack, yet I’ve never actually

learned to make one.

SHAWN’S MOM

The first thing I did was set

the oven to “broil”.

SHAWN

What temperature would I set

the stove to for “broil”?

SHAWN’S MOM

It’s not a temperature. The dial

actually points to “broil”.

Shawn’s Mom opens the bag of bread on the counter and removes two slices.

SHAWN

How are you selecting which slices

to use?

SHAWN’S MOM

I take the first two from the top.

SHAWN

Is that stand—

SHAWN’S MOM

Could you go to the fridge and

take out two Kraft singles?

Shawn’s Mom opens a tub of margarine on the counter and begins to butter the bread. Shawn returns from the fridge with the cheese slices.

SHAWN (CON’T)

This looks interesting. What

is it you’re doing now?

SHAWN’S MOM

I am buttering the bread.

SHAWN

Is there a specific technique you use?

SHAWN’S MOM

You just want to get some butter on every part of the bread without ripping the bread with your knife.

SHAWN

Maybe it would be easier to avoid ripping the bread if you used a less sharp utensil, such as a spoon?

SHAWN’S MOM

It’s not that easy to rip the bread.

SHAWN

Is there a specific type of

margarine you like to—

SHAWN’S MOM

Now we’re ready to put the

cheese on the bread. Do you want

to do that?

SHAWN

Be happy to.

Shawn puts the two cheese slices (still wrapped in plastic) on the bread. His Mom picks them up and removes the plastic wrappers.

SHAWN’S MOM

Let’s take the plastic wrap off

first.

SHAWN

I thought that was like the skin.

Shawn’s Mom puts the unwrapped cheese on one slice of bread and then places the other on top. She opens the oven door and slides the sandwich into the oven.

SHAWN’S MOM

We’re basically done. Now we just

put the sandwich on a baking sheet

and place it in the oven to toast.

It won’t take long, so it’s

important to watch closely to

make sure it doesn’t burn.

SHAWN

There’s no set time?

SHAWN’S MOM

No. You just take it out when the

bread is toasted. Flip it over and

do the other side.

SHAWN

But I like to go over and watch TV until it’s time to take the food out of the—

SHAWN’S MOM

That is exactly what you don’t want to do.

SHAWN

Sounds easy.

SHAWN’S MOM

That’s what I’m hoping.

INT. SHAWN’S CUBICLE – MORNING

(Shawn, Sandy, Snooty Office Secretary, Fred)

Shawn sits in his cubicle reading the sports section of the newspaper online. He has several “diversion” work-related tabs on his computer to make this less obvious.

The SNOOTY OFFICE SECRETARY approaches him with a large brown envelope. Shawn minimizes the sports page but too late.

SNOOTY OFFICE SECRETARY

As you probably know, Friday is Janet’s last day. It would be nice if everyone chipped in to get her a spa weekend.

SHAWN

Oh… Who’s leaving?

SNOOTY OFFICE SECRETARY

(rolls her eyes) Janet Malone. She’s in accounting. Across the hall, three floors up, in the corner. She’s been here for two years.

SHAWN

…I don’t think I’ve met her.

The Snooty Secretary opens the envelope and tries to hand it to Shawn. Shawn resists.

SNOOTY OFFICE SECRETARY

I’m sure you’ll meet her at the goodbye party.

Forcing the envelope towards him again. Shawn rolls his chair backwards to avoid it.

SHAWN

How much should I put in?

SNOOTY OFFICE SECRETARY

I’m asking everyone for twenty dollars.

SHAWN

I don’t have that on me.

SNOOTY OFFICE SECRETARY

(visibly frustrated) Can you go to a cash machine?

SHAWN

Could I just give it to you tomorrow?

SNOOTY OFFICE SECRETARY

…You could.

The Secretary leaves. SANDY, mid 20s, very hyper, pokes her head over Shawn’s dividing wall.

SANDY

Hey Polkaroo!

Shawn jumps in his seat.

SHAWN

Hi.

SANDY

There’s leftover cake in the staffroom! Do you want to go get some?

SHAWN

It’s 9:30.

SANDY

So?

SHAWN

I don’t think I could eat cake this early.

SANDY

GRRR, you’re so boring.

SHAWN

(Deadpan) I know. I hate myself.

Sandy forces an awkward smile and then lowers her head behind the dividing wall. Shawn’s timid and over polite manager, FRED, mid 30s, comes around the corner with a piece of paper and sits down beside him.

FRED

Good morning Shawn!

SHAWN

Oh hey. A lot of morning people around here.

FRED

How are you doing?

SHAWN

Fine.

FRED

Good, that’s good. Hey listen, I was just speaking with Phil and he’s got a few points he wanted me to bring up with you about the Clowns4Hire.com wording.

SHAWN

Sure.

FRED

Good, that’s good. We’ve got an open dialogue going here. Please keep in mind these aren’t my notes. I totally get what you’re going for here, but again, Phil is the one who is a little concerned with a few of the jokes…Not me.

SHAWN

(calm) They said they wanted it to be funny.

FRED

Please relax. I just wanted to give you a heads up. The clown is going to be here in an hour and I wanted to give you time to think of new ideas. Don’t bite my head off.

SHAWN

Fred I’m not angry—

FRED

That’s the spirit!

Fred pats Shawn on the knee with the paper and runs away.

SANDY (O.S)

I sure wish I had someone to go get cake with me. Hint, hint Polkaroo.

Shawn’s cell phone beeps. Text message from Danny. Want to switch jobs??? Shawn texts I hope you like cake in response.

INT. LARGE UNIVERSITY LECTURE HALL – MORNING

(Floyd, Professor, Student Extras)

Floyd is sitting in the back row watching YouTube videos of guys getting attacked by animals. The PROFESSOR drones on.

PROFESSOR

(to class)I’d prefer that you all pay attention rather then write this down verbatim, I’ll be placing my lecture notes on the course website anyway.

Half the STUDENTS immediately get up and leave. Floyd looks up puzzled, but then packs his stuff and leaves too.

INT. PHIL’S OFFICE – MORNING

(Shawn, Phil, Patrick the Clown)

Shawn knocks on the open door before walking in. PHIL, 50s, a phony jerk, is sitting behind his desk. PATRICK, bi-polar, literally a full-dressed clown, is sitting across from him.

PHIL

Come on in Shawn. This is Patrick, he’s the C.E.O of ClownsforHire.com.

SHAWN

Nice to meet you.

Shawn and Patrick extend hands to shake. ZAP!

SHAWN

(angry and startled) What the hell!

Patrick laughs and reveals an electric buzzer in his hand.

PHIL

Shawn that language isn’t appropriate for the office. (Pointing playfully at Patrick) He got me with that one too. He’s a real trickster, this guy.

PATRICK

Guilty, guilty.

PHIL

Shawn, Patrick is a little concerned with the some of the material you’re using on his website.

PATRICK

Concerned, more like it sucks! I’m just kidding of course, but seriously now, I’m not sure what you were thinking with some of these lines. Ahem, “You’re nose will be red with laughter after watching one of our clowns perform.”

Phil slams his desk in anger.

PHIL

Damn it Shawn.

PATRICK

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Who has red noses?

SHAWN

Clo—

PATRICK

Alcoholics! Is that who you’re trying to associate us with? “Gee honey, how ‘bout we hire a clown for little Billy’s party. We can get ripped with a bunch of eight- year-olds and a drunken clown before we get carted off to jail!”

PHIL

The clowns are for kids Shawn. You’ve got to grow out of this university humor.

PATRICK

“This is one party where The Joker will reign supreme.”

SHAWN

Kids love Batman—

PHIL

Would you let him talk?

PATRICK

Yes they love Batman. Do they love The Joker? No! Did you even see that movie? He’s a murdering sociopath! Is that who you would hire to work a birthday party? Do you invite a lot of murderers into your home Shawn?

SHAWN

I was trying to keep the jokes tame because I knew it was for parents and kids.

PATRICK

Don’t start crying. I didn’t realize Phil would be placing someone with such limited experience in charge of my site.

PHIL

I’m sorry about all this Patrick. Although he is green, we think he may have some potential. We’ll get some new drafts over to you ASAP.

PATRICK

He’ll just have to try harder that’s all. (To Shawn) Hey, what’s that on your tie?

Shawn looks down at his tie, Patrick squeezes the flower on his chest and it sprays water on Shawn’s shirt.

INT. BUSINESS FOOD COURT – AFTERNOON

(Shawn, Richard)

Shawn and Richard are sitting at a table eating lunch.

RICHARD

It’s nice to have you working so close by. I hate going to lunch with the older guys from the office.

SHAWN

I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here.

RICHARD

Yeah?

SHAWN

I just got out of this meeting with my boss and some clown. They’re not very happy with me.

RICHARD

Sounds like a real circus.

SHAWN

The only person who does seem to like my writing is my direct supervisor, but that’s bias because I’m pretty sure he’s afraid of me.

RICHARD

This all sounds a lot more interesting than accounting.

SHAWN

You have a real job. You’re not being chewed out by a clown. I should have slapped his stupid wig off with one of his giant shoes.

RICHARD

What’s that on your shirt?

RICHARD

Water. I hope.

INT. UNIVERSITY CAFETERIA – AFTERNOON

(Floyd, Danny)

Danny and Floyd are eating lunch.

DANNY

You’re so lucky to still be in undergrad.

FLOYD

The secret is to drop lots of courses. Come on, you’re a T.A, that’s awesome! I would fail everyone.

DANNY

It sounds awesome, but these kids are so annoying.

FLOYD

Do you have an office?

DANNY

Kind of, I get it once a week.

FLOYD

Awesome. Are some of your female students going to be stopping by for extra credit? Huh? Huh?

DANNY

Yeah that’s what’s going to happen. Damn! What time is it?

FLOYD

No idea.

INT. SHAWN’S CUBICLE – AFTERNOON

(Shawn, Sandy)

Shawn walks back to his cubicle after lunch. He puts his bag down and notices a large piece of cake on his desk.

SANDY (O.S)

Hmm…What did I do with that other piece of cake?

INT. DANNY’S THESIS PROFESSOR’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON

(Danny, Thesis Professor)

Danny sitting across from his Thesis Professor.

THESIS PROFESSOR

I wanted to get a sense of how your proposal is coming along.

DANNY

Good. Got some really solid ideas.

THESIS PROFESSOR

Have you decided what you’ll be dealing with specifically?

DANNY

…Not specifically, but yes I have. I think I’ll be talking about the pitfalls of the current penitentiary system in terms of neo-liberalism ideals and the Canadian social structure in regards to the current economic climate. That sort of thing. Probably.

THESIS PROFESSOR

Those are certainly some big words. You want to be a lawyer right? That’s the eventual goal?

DANNY

I think so.

THESIS PROFESSOR

Yeah, a lot of people your age think they can be lawyers. Danny, I don’t get the sense you’re taking a proactive approach to your thesis. I don’t get any extra money for supervising your studies so I sincerely hope you don’t plan to spend the whole year wasting my time.

DANNY

No—

THESIS PROFESSOR

Come back on Thursday with a more concrete outline.

DANNY

Actually Thursday I’m holding office hours.

THESIS PROFESSOR

Are some of the girls going to be stopping by for extra credit?

INT. FLOYD AND WADE’S KITCHEN- DAY

(Floyd, Wade)

INSERT: At Home with Floyd and Wade

Floyd is cooking in the kitchen. He opens the oven door and is shocked to see that the element has caught fire!

FLOYD

Wade!…Wade!…Fire!

Wade lackadaisically walks into the room with his laptop, eyes focused intently on the screen.

WADE

I’m not going to help you kill a rat.

FLOYD

Rat? I said fire. The oven is on fire!

Wade looks at the inflamed oven.

WADE

Oh. I thought you said “rat!”

Floyd turns on the sink full blast and begins to fill a pot with water.

FLOYD

I’ll throw water on it!

WADE

Yeah I guess…No wait! What are the fires you’re not supposed to throw water on?

FLOYD

Do those exist?

WADE

I’ll Google “what to do when your stove catches fire”.

The smoke detector kicks in.

WADE

Hey the smoke detector works!

FLOYD

Awesome. I keep forgetting to check the battery.

WADE

(Looking at his laptop) Do we have a “fire blanket”?

FLOYD

No. Let’s call the landlord.

WADE

I think I found it. “For electrical fires throw baking soda over the flames or use a class C fire extinguisher.”

FLOYD

Which one should I do?

WADE

Try the class C fire extinguisher first.

Floyd throws open the kitchen cabinet doors and sees three fire extinguishers labeled class “A”, “B” and “D”. Defeated, Floyd closes the cabinet doors.

FLOYD

We don’t have one.

WADE

Is that smoke alarm getting louder or is it just me?

FLOYD

I’m getting used to it actually… Hey, I’ll just use baking soda!

Floyd opens the kitchen cabinet and takes out a bulk sized box of baking soda. He opens the top and throws it towards the fire but nothing comes out. He looks accusingly at Wade.

WADE

…I set the VCR on fire last week. (Looking at his laptop) “To prevent future fires, always keep your stove clean and avoid overloading outlets.”

INT. DANNY’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON

(Danny, Over Eager Student 2)

Danny is sitting down with Over Eager Student 2, female, 18.

OVER EAGER STUDENT 2

I just wanted to talk about (beat) I just wanted to talk about—

She bursts into tears. Danny is totally caught off guard.

DANNY

What? What? What’s wrong?

OVER EAGER STUDENT 2

That essay we did in the first class. I did so badly on it!

DANNY

(Puzzled) Ess— you mean the diagnostic exercise?

OVER EAGER STUDENT 2

I wasn’t feeling well that morning. Everyone said university would be a lot harder than high school but I wasn’t expecting this! Please can I do it over again?

Danny pulls a few tissues out of a box and fearfully hands them to her.

DANNY

That exercise was just for a writing sample. It’s not even being graded.

OVER EAGER STUDENT 2

Please!

INT. DANNY’S OFFICE – CONTINUOUS ACTION

(Danny, Student with No Paper, his IRRITATED MOTHER)

The Student with No Paper is playing with his cell phone.

DANNY

(to Mother)It really wasn’t necessary for you to see me the first week of school.

IRRITATED MOTHER

Well he (to her son) told me he didn’t get any homework. As usual I don’t believe him.

DANNY

That’s true. There was no assignment this week—

IRRITATED MOTHER

I’d like to be in weekly contact with you. Would you prefer to keep doing this in person, phone, e-mail?

DANNY

…Actually I’d prefer to deal directly with the student.

IRRITATED MOTHER

The student is not the one paying.

INT. CLUTTERED GARAGE – DAY

(Chris, Arthur, Floyd)

Chris sits on drums, Arthur holding guitar, and Floyd at the microphone.

FLOYD

1, 2, 3, 4.

Arthur starts playing his guitar. Chris methodically counts with his drum sticks. Floyd nods his head to the melody and grips the microphone tighter. After twenty seconds of playing, Chris slams the symbol with his drumsticks. SILENCE.

FLOYD

That was so good!

INT. DANNY’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON

(Danny, Mrs. Cogliano)

Danny is working on his computer when Mrs. Cogliano knocks on the open door.

MRS. COGLIANO

Knock, knock.

DANNY

(stunned) Hey Mrs. Cogliano. (beat) Christina’s not here if—

MRS. COGLIANO

I’m here to see you.

She takes a seat.

MRS. COGLIANO (CON’T)

I’m sure Christina told you I’ve decided to go back to school and take a few courses. See if anything interests me.

DANNY

(beat) Yeah, oh yes I do remember her talking about that a few months ago.

MRS. COGLIANO

Anyway, I had a conflict in my schedule until I realized this class fit in perfectly. I’m in your tutorial now!

DANNY

My tuto—

MRS. COGLIANO

Your professor said I should stop by and pick up the syllabus from you. He really seemed to get a kick out of the fact you were dating my daughter.

DANNY

He has a terrific sense of humor.

MRS. COGLIANO

Now I’m not expecting any special treatment. In fact, I’m really looking forward reading your comments on my work.

INT. SHAWN’S CUBICLE – AFTERNOON

(Shawn, Sandy)

An e-mail from Sandy pops up on Shawn’s screen. Quick, look to your left!

Shawn looks to his left and doesn’t see anything. Frustrated, he turns back. Sandy jumps out from behind his right cubicle wall.

SANDY

Gotcha!

SHAWN

(startled) Sure did, you…rascal.

SANDY

How is the wording coming?

SHAWN

Slow.

SANDY

Did you want help?

SHAWN

Focus on the layout. I’ll have something soon.

SANDY

I’ve been done since this morning.

SHAWN

(beat) Fine. Tell me what you think of this.

SANDY

Okay!

SHAWN

Actually, first I want you to try and get into the mind frame of a neurotic, judgmental, middle-aged psychotic man in a clown su—

SANDY

Done!

SHAWN

That was a little fast, but ok. “When it comes to clowning around, we take our jobs pretty seriously—

SANDY (low clown voice)

Yeah that’s what people want. A serious clown at their party depressing the hell out of all the kids. Are you trying to bankrupt us?!

SHAWN

Fair enough. Glad to see you’re really getting into this. Okay, how about “A clowns 4 hire party is more fun than anything else you’re going to find—

SANDY (low clown voice)

I have a better idea. How about we direct link from our website to our competition? Then not only can we lose money but we can send our customers directly to someone else!

SHAWN

“Suspenders and white gloves have never looked so cool—

SANDY (low clown voice)

We don’t wear suspenders as a fashion statement. We need them to keep our gigantic pants up!

SHAWN

Okay stop.

SANDY (low clown voice)

White gloves?

SHAWN

Stop.

SANDY (low clown voice)

What is that some kind of eczema reference? Michael Jackson? Is that what it is? You sicko! Have you ever even seen a clown per—

SHAWN

Break character Sandy!

SANDY

(composing herself) Sorry. I got trapped there for a second. (beat) Listen, you need to focus more on what the clowns want to portray. A clown is there to provide the entertainment, to make the kids laugh, and take the pressure off the parents. That’s what makes the clowns happy and it’s probably what they take pride in.

SHAWN

Maybe. I think you’ve got me set on the right track. I’ll have the copy to you by end of the day. Thanks.

SANDY

Anytime! Did you want to go get some pizza!?

SHAWN

…No thanks. I’m going to do the work now remember?

SANDY

…Yes. Obviously.

SHAWN

Before you go—

SANDY

Yes!?

SHAWN

Did you donate to Janet Malone’s spa weekend?

SANDY

Nope. I said I would give my money on Friday. I plan to just call in sick and take a long weekend.

INT. DANNY’S THESIS PROFESSOR’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON

(Danny, Thesis Professor)

Danny’s Thesis Professor flips through a few pages before putting it down.

THESIS PROFESSOR

Better. You’ll have to expand on a few of these points to make an interesting argument. See you next week.

DANNY

Actually before I go, I wanted to talk about you putting my girlfriend’s mother in my tutorial.

THESIS PROFESSOR

(smirking) What about it?

DANNY

I think it’s a bit of a conflict of interest.

THESIS PROFESSOR

Uh oh. That would be unethical. Do you feel she expects to be treated better than the other students?

DANNY

No. But—

THESIS PROFESSOR

Do you intend to give her special treatment?

DANNY

No—

THESIS PROFESSOR

No problem then.

DANNY

See, her and I have never really talked much. It’s a bit of an uncomfortable situation. I mean, well, there was, well this one time she walked in on—

THESIS PROFESSOR

Maybe it’s not as much a “conflict of interest” as another example of your immaturity. I put her in your tutorial because I thought it would be an excellent opportunity for you to display some professionalism. If I’m going to give you a master’s, I want to know you can do more than just write essays. See you next week.

EXT. GOLF COURSE – DAY
(Shawn, Danny, Wade, Dean)

WHACK! Dean fires a beautiful arching shot towards the hole.

DEAN

I think that one went in the hole too. Darn it. I really wanted to work on my putting.

Wade lines up his shot. He takes a deep breath, winds up, and smokes the ball into the woods.

WADE

Son of a bitch!

DEAN

Don’t worry. It’s almost winter. I’ll help you look.

Dean and Wade drive their golf cart out of sight and into the woods. Shawn and Danny sit in their cart.

SHAWN

She’s in your class eh. That’s going to be really awkward. Didn’t she walk in on—

DANNY

It’s an excellent opportunity for

me to display professionalism.

EXT. WOODS – CONTINUOUS ACTION

Wade and Dean whack away at branches with their golf clubs.

DEAN

I think I see it!

WADE

Did you hear something?

EXT. GOLF COURSE – CONTINUOUS ACTION

Shawn and Danny in their cart.

DANNY

So Richard tells me you got beat up by a clown?

A hundred yards ahead, Wade sprints across the fairway being chased by a very agitated wild turkey! Dean chasing behind in their golf cart, is in hot pursuit of the turkey. GOBBLE! GOBBLE!

WADE

(to Dean)It’s going to eat me! Run it over!

DEAN

It’s too fast!

INT. CROWDED NIGHTCLUB – NIGHT – TAG

(Floyd, Wade)

INSERT: Keys to the VIP

SEXY FEMALE VOICE (V.O)

In our first challenge, the boys will compete to get a phone number from a sexy single in the club.

Floyd and Wade, dressed to impress, walk confidently into the club. They head off in two different directions through the crowd.

Wade casually saddles up beside a HOT BLONDE at the bar.

WADE

Why hello there, I’m Wade.

INT. CLUB – CONTINUOUS ACTION

Floyd holding two drinks, walks over to a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN and hands her one.

FLOYD

I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty.

BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

(Accepting the drink) Not at all.

INT. CLUB – CONTINUOUS ACTION

Back over to Wade, who has the Hot Blonde in stitches.

WADE

So are you single?

HOT BLONDE

You tell me.

Wade suddenly begins to look nervous. He places his glass down on the bar.

WADE

Alright then, nice meeting you.

INT. CLUB – CONTINUOUS ACTION

The Beautiful Woman Floyd was talking to now has her hand on his arm.

BEAUTIFUL WOMAN

You should take my number…

Floyd also suddenly has a look of panic on his face. He politely removes her hand from his arm.

FLOYD

Uhh maybe later.

Floyd and Wade weave timidly and quickly through the crowd towards the exit. They spot each other. Big smiles of relief, they hit a high five and walk out the exit with arms around each other.

CUT TO:

INT. STUDIO JUDGING ROOM OF KEYS TO THE VIP- NIGHT

(The four judges from the TV show)

The guys sit puzzled, starring at their TV. PEACHEZ fiddles with the remote.

PEACHEZ

Is that the end of the tape?

(A Love Scene between a Stapler and a Remote Control)

Stapler: Remoooooooooooote, oh remote control.

Remote: What?

Stapler: Remooooooooooooooooote!

Remote: What is it!?

Stapler: …I looooooooooove you.

Remote: Oh not this again.

Stapler: Oh fairest remote control, why do you torture me so?

Remote: How do I torture you?

Stapler: Everyday you eagerly sit a mere 6 inches away from me, taunting me with your large, round, and shapely buttons. Yet! Everyday you reject my advances, and brutally stomp all over my delicate heart.

Remote: Would you stop talking like that? And what do you mean your “advances”? You can’t move.

Stapler: Oh don’t take things so literally, you robust master of the television.

Remote: Geeze, what do you want from me?

Stapler: I do not require much. Only just an equal reflection of the…Vibrant! Passionate! And undying Love! That I hold for you.

Remote: …Fine.

Stapler: Oh do not toy with me mighty titan of the tube!

Remote: I’m not toying with you.

Stapler: So you’re in love with me!?

Remote: Yeah why not? What else have I got to do?

Stapler: It’s like all my dreams are coming true at once!

Remote: Yes…it’s just like that. So what now?

Stapler: What do you mean?

Remote: I mean we’re in love or whatever, so what do we do?

Stapler: I think we should find a way to express our eternal love and affection for each other.

Remote: Alright….Like what?

Stapler: Well… We could hold han….We could kiss each other on the li…We could hu…

Remote: Yeah, are you starting to see the problem with two gender-neutral, inanimate objects being in love?

Stapler: Very much so. But you know what? It doesn’t matter if we can’t touch, we could just share interesting stories and experiences which will help us grow as a couple and form a deep, indescribable connection.

Remote: Alright.

Stapler: So what interesting things have happened to you?

Remote: Umm nothing really, I’ve never left the house.

Stapler: Yeah, me either.

Remote: Wait, actually I do have a good story.

Stapler: Do Tell!

Remote: There was this one time where he wanted to go to channel 47, but he accidentally punched in 74, and as everyone knows channel 74 is static. He was stuck watching that for a good two seconds before he corrected his mistake. It was madness!

Stapler: Remote, I think we need to break up.

Remote: What!?

Stapler: Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me. Plus my family would never approve.

Remote: Your family!?

Stapler: Yes you know, Post-its, Scissors, Ink cartridge. I don’t think they could ever accept a remote.

Remote: This is unbelievable! After all the years you spent professing your love to me, you break up with me after five minutes of being together!

Stapler: I’m sorry! Look, maybe I should just leave.

Remote: Yes I think you should.

(They sit in silence.)

Stapler: Well this is awkward…I don’t know how I could have forgotten that I can’t move. (Looks to his right and sees the DVD remote.) Hey baby, how you doin?

DVD remote: Oh don’t even try it.

(Myth Writing)

By: Eric Tyndale

To tell you the truth I’m a little surprised that after thousands of years people are still asking me to tell this story. And to tell you the truth, I’m a little sick of telling it. So I fell out of a flying chariot of fire and died. Big deal. Whoops, I hope I didn’t spoil the ending. Well it doesn’t matter. We’ll do a little “media res” thing here. Ok to the beginning.

Well back when I was alive, I was a boy, and a handsome one at that. I lived alone with my mother, which I guess was a pretty rare set-up back in the day. Once I asked my grandmother who my father was. She snickered and mumbled something about a needle in a haystack. After that it wasn’t until I started school that I realized being fatherless was a bigger deal than I had originally thought. My classmates would often tease me with stinging, mostly unoriginal jabs like, “Hey bastard!” or “If you don’t have a father you shouldn’t be allowed at school!” or “See you at the father-son picnic…You bastard!”

Kids are really cruel. I mean I’ve got most of them wading in a pool of waist high water reaching for apples for all of eternity, but still those emotional wounds run deep. Back to the story. After one particularly rough day of being teased I went home and demanded that mom tell me who my father was. At first she wouldn’t tell me, but I was a persistent, really annoying kid so finally she conceded and said “Your father is Helios, god of the sun. He lives up in the sky and drives the chariot of the sun. There are you happy? Now you know.”

That sounded pretty badass to me! You tend to just take things at face value when you’re a kid. I rushed off to school the next day to share my exciting news and frankly just stick it to the little jerk wads who had been hassling me. As it turns out the other kids weren’t as willing as I was to believe that my father was god of the sun. They continued to tease me about being a bastard, but now with “sundial” puns tossed in intermittently. I knew I had to find some way of proving that Helios was my dad. So I thought, and I thought, and then one day I skipped recess and walked to the end of the earth. Sure enough, there was Helios playing strip poker with a few goddesses. He looked at me and said, “What is the cheque late or something?”

Yeah so he admitted to it pretty easily. I explained my school situation to him and he actually seemed fairly sympathetic. After that I tried to dance around the issue for a while, but finally I just came out and asked if I could drive the chariot of sun over the school yard to prove to the other kids that he was my dad. He said “no”. But like I said before I’m really persistent and annoying. I think it must be the power I get from being half-god. Finally with a lot of hesitation and some convoluted warning about being careful, he handed over the reigns. I got in the chariot, yelled “Yeehah!” (in Greek) and off the horses of fire went! I flew over the school yard, and commanded the horses to shoot snot-balls of fire at the little hooligans who had teased me. Many of them were severely burnt. It was a wonderful day.

I guess it was around this time that the horses of fire became impatient with my shenanigans and started to run away towards outer space (as frustrated horses of fire are known to do). Now at this point I was just holding on for dear life as the horses ran towards the stars, so I can only tell you what I’ve been told. Apparently because the horses (sun) got too far away from the earth, the planet became very cold, everyone freaked out, and even the plants started to die. That sounds a bit exaggerated to me, but that’s what I’ve been told. I did eventually manage to get the horses turned around and soon realized the one thing worse than a sun too far from the earth, is a sun too close to the earth. Basically the whole place started to look like Arizona, I think I created the Grand Canyon, and killed an entire species of Minotaur.

Then there it was…a gigantic pitchfork of lightning coming straight towards my head! It turns out that my father had asked Zeus to throw it at me so he could regain control of the horses. Can you believe it? My own dad! From there, the story gets really depressing. I fell out of the chariot and died upon impact.

These days I just sit here in the afterlife, constantly being hounded by new dead people to tell my story. So I do. Then in the afternoons I kill time by shaking my fist down at the sun and cursing at that lousy sperm donor for ever touching my mom. I could have been normal! I could have had a childhood!

Oh hey Medusa (stone).

By Eric Tyndale

Tall and too lean, Clifford stood beside his best friend Cecil, not nearly as tall but also too lean, both starring intently at the poster for the Port Tangerine Junior Dance that had been clumsily duct-taped to the bulletin board across the hall from the locker they had shared together for all of grade eight and now most of grade nine.

“Are you going to ask Penelope?” Cecil inquired forcefully.

“No…I don’t think so anyway. Maybe next year,” Clifford responded in his usual meek fashion to questions relating to Penelope.

“Don’t be such a wuss. She likes you.”

“No she doesn’t,” Clifford shot back quickly before giving in to curiosity. “Why, did somebody tell you she said she liked me?”

“Moron, let’s look at the facts. Just last week she picked you first for her team in the class debate.”

“That’s because nobody in the class knows more about stem cell research than I do.”

“And in spite of that, she still likes you. Which is strange enough in itself.

And when you guys won, she hugged you. The whole class was talking about it. A girl touches you, she likes you, that’s what my dad says.”
“She felt warm,” Clifford gushed. “Like a pretty radiator.”

“Ahem,” Penelope cleared her throat sending Clifford’s mind into a frenzy. How long had she been standing beside them? Did she hear the creepy radiator comment? What type of underwear does she have on? “Hey guys. What’s up?”

Clifford stood silently, starring at her curly blonde hair with his mouth open. After what seemed like three minutes to Clifford but was probably ten seconds, he managed to lift his index finger and point at the poster. Cecil finally stepped in.

“That’s right Clifford. Your pointing is getting very good. We were just talking  about the dance,” Cecil said with an exaggerated wink to Clifford before holding his wrist up to the sky to check his non-existent watch. “Now if you love birds will excuse me, I really must be going. I’ve got to get to bocce practice,” he chuckled and casually strolled down the hallway leaving Clifford in what he considered the most awkward situation of his young life.

“That guy’s,” Clifford cycled through his brain for more words “…such an idiot,” he fired out followed by a forced laugh.

“Ahh he’s alright,” Penelope replied with a quick smile that showed off her white, perfectly symmetrical front teeth. “Oh! So are you going?”

“Going to?”

“…The dance?”

“Oh! Yeah, haven’t decided yet. Dances aren’t really my thing.”

“…Oh,” Penelope sighed as her green eyes veered down to the faded yellow floor tiles. “That’s too bad.”

“Why!?” Clifford shot back quickly, realizing he was screwing it up. “Are you going?”

“Well, no. I’d like to, I mean, nobody’s asked me. And my dad is really strict about these things.”

“Right, right. Sucks, sucks,” Clifford tried to say coolly.

“Yeah it’s really stupid. I’m sure if somebody actually asked him for permission he’d say yes.”

“That’s cool.” The hint was lost on Clifford. “Maybe this is your year.”

“Yeah maybe…Maybe it’s your year too,” Penelope accompanied the obvious words of encouragement with a quick jab to Clifford’s scrawny shoulder.

“The woman was nice enough to invite you!” Clifford’s mom bellowed up the stairs, holding onto the bottom banister for balance; a crumpled wedding invitation clutched between her fingers. Clifford sat in the adjacent living room and cranked up the TV volume, hoping the bullets from his virtual shotgun would drown out the non-stop bickering that had taken over the house between his mother and older brother, Kurt. “You should go! Kurt? Are you up there? Are you listening to me!?”

Kurt, thirty-one and prospect-less bounded angrily down the stairs and yanked the invitation out of his mother’s hand, walked into the kitchen and threw it in the trash again.

“Mom, I’m not going,” He said running an aggravated hand through his thinning red hair. “I threw the invitation out because I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“You should at least send her a gift!” She said while walking straight back into the kitchen, pink bathrobe flapping, to recover the invitation from the trash. Then she marched right back into the living room and forced it into Kurt’s hand. “There’s a proper etiquette for adulthood!”

She shook her head in disappointment and retreated back to the kitchen. Kurt sighed and sat down on the olive couch beside Clifford who was focused intently on zombie slaying. Kurt looked at the invitation in his hand as he smoothed out some of the creases with his thumb and forefinger.

“It’s weird. I had the biggest crush on this girl all through junior high but I never had the guts to ask her out. Hell, in grade ten her friends even told me she liked me. But I didn’t do anything—”

“Is there a point to this? Clifford asked sharply before sniping another zombie. “I’m really busy.”

“No. It’s just funny that’s all. The next year she starts dating this other guy in my class and now all these years later they’re getting married while I’m still living here with you guys. There sure aren’t many options in this town Cliff.”

“What about a nice waffle-iron!?” A shrill voice shot out from the kitchen.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

Clifford flailed fish-like in his bed for the snooze button.

“Time for chores sport!” The door to his bedroom flung open. Clifford’s overly hyper father grinned from ear to ear as he held onto the door frame and a rake. “You don’t want to miss this great weather. It’s beautiful out!”

Before his father shut the door, Clifford caught a glimpse of a demoralized Kurt walking down the hall with what distinctly appeared to be a brand new waffle-iron.

No, today will not be for chores! Clifford thought to himself as he brushed his teeth frantically. After he got dressed, he leaped down the stairs and put on his cleanest  pair of sneakers. He took a look in the mirror, put a stray hair back in place, puffed out his chest, and exited his cranberry coloured house as though ready to storm the zombies.

He bounded down the front steps and marched across his front lawn diagonally towards the sidewalk, totally unaware that Cecil was sitting underneath Clifford’s front yard maple tree whittling. Cecil threw down his carving, jumped to his feet and raced down the sidewalk after Clifford.

“Where are you going Cliff?”

“To not buy a waffle iron!” Clifford’s voice cracked as he picked up his pace.

“Okay, don’t buy me one either?”

“Sure she’s not allowed to date. But no one has actually asked her father for permission either! I bet the whole thing is just a test.”

“Well I heard that kid Phillip asked him. No one’s seen him since. People say he moved away. Even though his family still lives here. But I’m glad you’re taking action!”

“Phillip was hit by a car, remember?”
“But who was driving?”

“Shut up. Shut up. You are deflating my bravado!” Clifford suddenly jumped behind a large oak tree. Cecil hid behind him. They were at the front yard of Mr. Kostas’ two story, lemon coloured house. Clifford peaked around the tree trunk. He could see Mr. Kostas, large and hairy, sitting on his porch swing, polishing his paintball rifle with a new white towel. Above the porch, in front of a window, Clifford could clearly see the fair Penelope brushing her golden hair. He quickly retracted his head back behind the tree.

“Oh Rapunzel, let down thy hair,” he whispered to no one in particular.

“Is this what men do Cliff? Because we could have been hiding behind trees years ago.” Cecil prodded.

Clifford slapped Cecil on the shoulder, took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the tree trunk. His scrawny chest was vibrating as he respectfully walked along the stone walkway that led to the porch. Clifford had been here many times before, but today it had transformed into the most intimidating and menacing lemon coloured house in all of Port Tangerine. Clifford cleared his throat. Mr. Kostas didn’t acknowledge him..

“Ahem. Good morn— uhh, umm, happy Sat— a pleasant morning to you Mr. Kostas!”

Mr. Kostas stopped rubbing his gun. He pushed up the brim of his straw hat and turned his neck slowly towards Clifford.

“A little early in the season to be cutting my grass don’t you think?” Mr. Kostas said with a calm and steady voice that scared the hell out of Clifford.”

“Well no, umm, actually, you see I’m here to ask, that is, I mean, I can cut your grass if you want to, but what I’m actually here for is to ask—

“Why are you talking so funny?” Mr. Kostas asked curiously. Clifford took another deep breath.

“Mr. Kostas. Whether you are aware of it or not, our school, that is Penelope’s and my school, is having a spring dance next Friday night. I am here before you today because I cordially wish to ask for your permission, so that I may escort her to that particular event.”

“You sounded English there for a second Clifford and I appreciate that, but the answer is no. Now dance varmint!”

Mr. Kostas turned and aimed his rifle with lightning quick speed at Clifford’s feet. Before Clifford could move, Mr. Kostas squeezed off two quick shots and splattered both of Clifford’s shoes with red paint. Clifford just stood there sad and confused.

“Oh Clifford, don’t look so sad. The truth is if I had to pick a scrawny wimp to send my daughter out with, it would be you! I bet you don’t have an idea in your head of what to do with a girl. But if I say yes to you it sets a dangerous precedent. Soon all the neighbourhood boys will be coming around. I remember a boy came around here last year asking about Penelope. I didn’t like the looks of him.”

“Yeah. Okay. I understand,” said Clifford.

Mr. Kostas delicately laid down his rifle and descended the three porch steps.

“I’ve got to get going. There’s a small matter with my idiot neighbour that needs discussing.”

“Uncle Gustov?” Clifford asked.

“Uncle-what? Wait a second. That penny-pincher is your uncle! Hey, do you know about that water wheel he built in his backyard?”

“Yeah. He was bragging about it the other day when he came over for dinner.”

“I should say he would be bragging about it. He’s powering his whole house with it now. He’s taken himself off the grid completely!” Mr. Kostas shouted angrily.

“So?”

“So that water he uses flows from my backyard pond! If he’s going to be using my water, I should get the free electricity too. But he won’t even listen to reason. I’ve been over there three times!”

“Well he’s eccentric.”

“Would you talk to him Clifford? Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“I doubt it. We’re not that close.”

“Clifford I’m going to talk turkey here. I want that free electricity. I’m tired of being at the mercy of the Port Tangerine Hydro Commission. If you can convince him to power up my house, because it is my water anyway after all, you’ve got a deal for taking Penelope to the dance.”

“Never as my feet roam this earth, shall I provide free power to that barbarian!” Exclaimed Uncle Gustov, as he picked up an empty test tube and whipped it violently at the wall of his laboratory. “Never!”

Now that Clifford and Cecil were actually standing inside Uncle Gustov’s tiny backyard shack, surrounded by Bunsen burners and dead amphibians in jars, Clifford knew he wouldn’t be taking Penelope to the dance. It’s hard to reason with a pale, balding man wearing a lab coat he stole from a drug store employee.

“But if you don’t give him free hydro, Mr. Kostas won’t let Cliff take Penelope to the dance and Phillip will have died in vain,” Cecil interjected.

Uncle Gustov peered up from behind his computer monitor and stared at the two boys through his thick lenses. Suddenly, he stormed across the room and flung open the creaky wooden door of his laboratory.

“Look!” he said pointing outside. The three of them stood with their heads poking out the door frame at a large wooden water wheel that was spinning feverishly in Uncle Gustovs’ backyard water reservoir. “Do you see what I’ve been able to build with a little focus and concentration? The problem with all you men is that you’re only concerned about sex. I’ve never had sex with a woman in my life and look at me now. I’ve got five industrial generators running at the same time! For free!”

“You’re right Uncle Gustov. Sorry we bothered you” Clifford shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

“Don’t you worry, nephew. Fortunately your pubescent problems are not isolated to the young. The old goats are just as preoccupied with bodily pleasure. In fact, it is that very reason I’m going to make a fortune with my next invention.”

“What’s your next invention, crazy Uncle Gustov?” Cecil asked sarcastically.

Gustov paused for a second, anxious to discuss his newest idea but also slightly paranoid about the two boys somehow stealing it.

“Well since you two wouldn’t be capable of making your own anyway, I’ll tell you. Currently, I am right in the midst of the complicated process of creating an all natural pill that will help older men get erections.”

“That’s brilliant!. You could call it Viagra,” said Cecil, clearly unimpressed.

“I scoff at the suggestion! Viagra could not be further from natural. My pill will be made of organic vegetable extracts, work twice as well, and you won’t need a prescription to buy it.”

“That does sound like a good idea actually,” conceded Cecil.

“Tell me about it! The only problem is I need the vegetables to be pure. Anything you buy at the supermarket, even the organic produce has been doused with chemicals.”

“Why don’t you ask Mrs. Parsley? She has that huge vegetable garden!” Cecil said excitedly.

“Don’t think I haven’t tried. I went over to her house, looked her straight in the eye and said I need to talk to you about old man erections. Before I knew it, I was out on the sidewalk! The woman is a psycho.”

“Hmm. You should send Clifford. She loves him.”

Gustov stood silently for a moment, his bushy eyebrows moving up and down.

“That’s right. She does! She always used to stop and buy lemonade from you.”

“I was five!” Clifford forcefully interjected. “Just get them somewhere else.”

“No but Clifford, Mrs. Parsley’s asparagus always takes the blue ribbon at the Port Tangerine Fair and Livestock Expo. It’s the best you can find!”

Clifford was about to say no but thought better of it.

“Alright, if I get the vegetables from her, then you have to agree to power Mr. Kostas’ house.”

“Sure that’s no big deal. Now go go go. Make sure you get the asparagus. It has the vitamin E that will make you stiff in a jiff.”

“—So as a married woman, with an aging husband, I’m sure you can appreciate the benefits of such an innovation, that is, if the two of you are still—” Short and stout as Mrs. Parsley was, there was something about the subject matter and maybe the flower pattern of her apron that was getting Clifford’s teenage mind slightly aroused as he nervously fidgeted. “That is, I mean, if you’re still enjoyi—”

“I would advise you to stop that sentence right now. I am a lady and your face is red enough as it is,” said Mrs Parsley sternly, right before she angrily jammed her spade into the soil beneath a tomato plant. “I don’t have the time nor the patience to humour the whims of your deranged uncle and his perverted ideas.” Mrs. Parsley noticed a hole in the ground beside her knee and delicately filled it with dirt. “For the love of god, do you see all these holes in my garden?”

“You should stop digging them Mrs. Parsley!” Cecil chimed in disingenuously.

“Keep up the attitude, smartass. Girls love that,” she shot back, wiping the excess dirt onto her apron. “It’s that darn gopher. He’s burrowed up my entire garden! You know I’ve had two exterminators quit on me? They say he’s the most vindictive rodent they’ve ever come across.”

“Oh, oh! Let me guess what you’re about to say! If Cliff can find a way to get rid of the gopher then he can have all the asparagus he wants?” Cecil asked cynically.

Mrs. Parsley stood up and gently rubbed her muddy thumb and index finger on her chin, creating an inadvertent beard. “That’s not really what I was getting at you little snot, but you know what, yes. I think that would be a more than even trade-off. Clifford, get rid of this gopher and the asparagus is yours.”

The fluorescent coloured houses and white picket fences of Port Tangerine all seemed to blend together as the two boys rushed down the sidewalk at a torrid pace. This time, Cecil was clearly leading the way.

“Why did you tell her I could get rid of that gopher? I heard the last exterminator she hired committed suicide,” Clifford said bitterly as he jogged alongside Cecil.

“No he just got hit by a car,” Cecil said with a heinous smile as they cut through the Port Tangerine public parking lot. “We’ll use my brother’s cat. I’ve seen this thing take down full-grown pelicans. That gopher won’t stand a chance.”

“Wait, you don’t mean your brother Seamus from the lighthouse do you? Isn’t he a little…off?” Clifford asked, slightly concerned. The two boys turned left at the bait-n-tackle shop and headed for the water.

“A little off? He’s a total wing nut. Every month my father gives the mayor 500 dollars, the mayor then writes a cheque for 500 dollars to Seamus from the Town as payment for monitoring a lighthouse that hasn’t functioned in 25 years. And they do all this just to keep him out of everyone’s hair.”

As they neared the weather-beaten red lighthouse, Clifford could see a man in a yellow raincoat, black rubber boots, and a white captain’s hat angrily whipping chunks of bread at a flock of confused seagulls on the dock.

“I do not accept your judgement of me!” The man, Clifford now assumed to be Seamus, shouted at the birds.

Chained to the lighthouse was the largest, most ferocious cat Clifford had ever seen. Clifford shielded himself behind Cecil, who confidently strolled up to Seamus.

“Brother Seamus, greetings from the yella-livered land lovers! My mate Clifford and I need to borrow your kitty so that we may slay a gopher most foul!” Cecil seemed to be fluent in the half-pirate, half-Scottish language that Seamus spoke.

Clifford nervously whispered into Cecil’s ear, “Cecil, that’s not a cat. It’s a mountain lion.”

“Yes I know that Clifford, but it’s perfectly harmless,” Cecil whispered back.

Seamus stood up straight, then dove suddenly at an unsuspecting seagull and held it tightly in his arms. He threw the stunned seagull towards his cat, who promptly swallowed the bird whole.

“Okay not exactly harmless,” Cecil confessed. “But no one in this town has the guts to get rid of it. Are you going to tell this nut-job to get rid of his mountain lion?”

“I would love to loan you me kitty for a wee spell brother Fredrick! But I’m afraid me dear pet is no longer welcomed in the hallowed streets of Port Tangerine. The other day we went to see Cobbler Bruce in his shop to purchase me a new pair of orthopedic rain boots. He was about to sell them to me when kitty spontaneously ate Cobbler Bruces’ wee child,” Seamus said as he removed his captain’s hat and held it over his heart.

“That’s horrible!” exclaimed Clifford.

“Aye! You’re telling me boy. My feet have never been so sore. I need those new boots like nobody’s business.”

“Suppose we was to go and retrieve the booty for you Brother Seamus? Do you suppose we could borrow the kitty then?”

“Aye I’d say you could! But good luck to ya’s, that Cobbler Bruce was mighty peeved about the loss of his boy,” Seamus said as a single tear fell down his cheek.

“I’m going to be frank with you boys,” Cobbler Bruce said as he looked up from the dingy pair of brown construction boots whose eyelets he was repairing. Cobbler Bruce was somehow always tanned and although he seemed old, nobody really knew if he was 60 or 35. “The whole town knows what you’re up to, so I’ll just get straight to what I want in return.”

“Fair enough,” said Clifford. “But first can I just say how sorry I am that Seamus’ cat ate your son. It’s a horrible tragedy”

“Seamus’ cat ate the child manikin that Osh Kosh sent me. After that, I threw them out,” Cobbler Bruce said curtly. “Listen closely, next week is the Spring Bonspiel at the Port Tangerine Bocce Club. I want to win. In the 15 years I’ve played, I’ve never won.”

“I don’t understand,” Clifford replied. “How can I make you better at bocce?”

Cobbler Bruce was visibly insulted.

“I don’t need to get better at bocce. What I need is a better partner. Stan Mortimer is the best bocce player in the whole town. He may be 98 years old if he’s a day, but his team wins every year. But last winter his usual partner, Bocce Ball Willy, was killed in the running of the bulls in Spain. This is my big chance to grab Stan as my partner. Unfortunately, Stan stopped talking to me a year ago when I told him his shoe size was actually 8 ½ not 9.”

“Alright I think I know where this is going,” Clifford sighed. “We’ll go talk to him.”

Stan Mortimer sat outstretched in his white plastic lounger, dressed in white from head to toe, with his large old-people sunglasses covering the eyes on his wrinkled face as he listened reluctantly.

“—So as you can see Mr. Mortimer, I’ve really gone to great lengths here to take Penelope to the dance but it all hinges on you agreeing to be Cobbler Bruce’s partner.” Clifford said in exhaustion.

Clifford and Cecil stood shyly in front of Mr. Mortimer, casting a shadow over his beaten down body, waiting for some sort of response. A minute passed by. Stan just stared at them, refusing to speak. After being all over Town, Clifford had finally reached the end of his rope.

“Come on you stubborn old man! You were young once. You must know what I’m going through! Have you no soul? Have you no heart? I mean for the love of God would it kill someone in this town to do one selfless act, to do something without getting anything in return?”

Stan continued to stare, but then his mouth opened slowly and he spoke with a gruff voice.

“Alright you little puke, I’ll do—”

Stan stopped and slouched back in his chair. Cecil looked curiously at Stan’s chest. He took two fingers and placed them firmly on the old man’s neck.

Clifford and Cecil sat hunched over on the curb outside Mr. Mortimer’s strawberry red house, elbows on knees and chins in palms, as the Port Tangerine Funeral Home attendants loaded the body bag into the back of their van.

“It’s over,” Clifford lamented as the van door slammed shut. “The best bocce player in town is dead. The other got ran over by a bull.”

Cecil sat silently for a moment. He inched closer to Clifford and put his arm around his shoulders.

“You should just ask the second best bocce player. He’s a real looker.”

“Why? Who’s the second best bocce player?” Clifford asked as he stared blankly into the distance.

“Me, you idiot. Actually…I guess I’m the best bocce player in town now that you’ve killed Mr. Mortimer. I’ll play with Cobbler Bruce if you want.”

Clifford turned to Cecil in amazement.

“That’s right! You win the regional championship at school every year. They always have those stupid assemblies for you that nobody cares about. Would you do that Cecil? Would you really play with him?

When Penelope and Clifford strolled through the large front doors of the Port Tangerine High School gymnasium, it looked nothing like Clifford was used to. It was much darker than usual with only the roving dots of light that bounced off the disco ball making it possible to see the other grade nines from his class. They were all dressed so grown-up tonight; awkwardly dancing to the music. Cheap paper streamers lined the part of the walls where the blue safety mats usually hung and there was a refreshment table complete with what looked to be peach punch, crackers and a salmon spread. The only familiar element was Coach Gerard, who tonight was actually wearing a tie, as he poked cautiously at the buttons on the aging boom box. The whole scene was making Clifford queasy. He didn’t want to be here. So things didn’t work out for his Kurt when he was in high school, maybe that was for the best.

Clifford’s stomach jumped as Penelope guided him onto the dance floor right as Coach Gerard selected Celine Dion’s most romantic song. Clifford realized on that walk out to the floor that he didn’t know how to dance. Looking first to see how the other boys were doing it, he put one of his increasingly clammy hands on Penelope’s hip and the other on her back as they began to wobble slowly to the music. If the other boys were any indication, he knew he had to start actually moving his feet.

“Oh, ouch! That’s my toe,” Penelope said politely with a hard wince.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” Clifford said emphatically. “Hey, maybe we should take a break.”

“But we just got here,” Penelope said while physically urging him to continue dancing.

“Clifford! Where’s Clifford?” A man’s voice boomed from the front of the gym.

Clifford let go of Penelope as they peered through the darkness towards the shouting. Clifford recognized a highly irritated Cobbler Bruce pushing his way through confused teenagers, holding a pair of soaking-wet orthopaedic rain boots in his arms as he made an aggressive line towards Clifford. Clifford could also see Cecil speed walking towards him.

“The deal is off you swindler!” Cobber Bruce yelled at Clifford. “We lost in the second round. Your friend is the dumbest bocce player I’ve ever had the misfortune of playing with!”

“You old coot,” Cecil protested. Everyone stopped dancing and starred intently at the argument. “You’re the dead weight. You have no concept of where to throw the jack. We couldn’t get any poin—”

“Alright, stop!” Clifford interrupted, his face turning red with embarrassment. “Look around at the scene you’re creating. Bruce, the deal was that I find you the best bocce partner in—”

“Somebody stop that woman! She’s stealing the source of my erections!”

Clifford, Penelope, Bruce, Cecil, and the entire gym of dancers turned towards the entrance where Mrs. Parsley was making a determined waddle towards Clifford, clutching a bushel of fresh asparagus tightly in her arms. Chasing behind her frantically was Uncle Gustov.

“What kind of con-man are you Clifford?” Mrs. Parsley questioned angrily. “You know what I just saw in my backyard? Why, it was my old friend the gopher, doing the backstroke through the soil of my garden!”

“Give me back that asparagus you foul woman. We had a deal!” Uncle Gustov cried out as he tried hopelessly to pull the plants free from Mrs. Parsley’s chubby biceps.

“The deal is off, you tw—”

“Stop it! Do you guys see where you are?” Clifford asked through his teeth, trying to smile as he tore his Uncle’s boney fingers off the asparagus. “There are other people here. You can’t just walk in—”

“Where’s my daughter? Penelope!” A man with a paintball rifle slung over his shoulder yelled at the crowd of teenagers near the refreshment table. “Where’s Penelope!?” The man, Penelope now realized was her father, interrogated a pimply faced boy who he was holding by the throat.

“Dad!” Penelope screamed in embarrassment.

Mr. Kostas moved towards her and grabbed his daughter by the wrist.

“Come on baby-girl. I’m taking you home.”

“What? Why?” Penelope protested as she pressed her heels down onto the floor.

“Gee, I don’t know Clifford. Maybe one day when you’re sitting at home watching the hunting channel and all the electricity goes off in your house, you’ll understand.”

“Did you turn off his electricity?” Clifford asked Uncle Gustov, rubbing his eyelids in frustration.

“Without the asparagus, I sure was not going to power this deviant’s house for free.”

“I wouldn’t have taken the asparagus back if the gopher hadn’t reappeared in my yard. Maybe someone could explain that to me,” Mrs. Parsley interjected.

“I released the foul beast back into ya garden Miss. Presley!”

The entire gym turned once again towards the back-lit entrance of the gym to see Seamus’ silhouette standing in the doorway. As he marched solider-like into the gym, Clifford noticed that he was barefoot.

“Aye. It turns out me kitty had no interest in eating thy gopher. So I decided to adopt him as a second pet. But, when Cobbler Bruce repossessed me rain boots, the only honourable thing left was to release the menace back into thy bushes. A deal is a deal, is a deal. Aye,” Seamus stated proudly before spitting on the floor of the gym.

“Come on Penelope, we’re leaving this freak show,” said Mr. Kostas as he cocked his paintball rifle and forcefully tugged at Penelope’s arm, slowly dragging her out of the gym.

Penelope looked back at Clifford, who was standing disillusioned in the middle of the dance floor. She waived sadly and Clifford reciprocated.

“There’s a monster!” Coach Gerard yelled from beside the boom box.

All the students turned towards the terrified gym teacher. Seamus’ mountain lion had mounted the snack table and was pleasantly licking all the salmon off the whole-wheat crackers when it looked up to see everyone starring at him. The girls shrieked and the boys screamed in terror, running and knocking each other over in a stampede towards the emergency exit. They ploughed through the fire doors setting off the alarm instantly. The piercing noise seemed to spook the mountain lion. He growled ferociously and began chasing the grade nines around the gym.

“Stop running ya wee fools! It makes him angry. He just wants to lick ya’s!”

]]> http://erictyndale.wordpress.com/2009/08/31/back-scratch-fever/feed/ 0 etyndale http://erictyndale.wordpress.com/2009/08/31/jiminy-crickets-treatment-sample/ http://erictyndale.wordpress.com/2009/08/31/jiminy-crickets-treatment-sample/#comments Mon, 31 Aug 2009 20:40:12 +0000 etyndale http://erictyndale.wordpress.com/?p=137 ]]> FOGGY MINOR HOCKEY RINK. Feverish battling along the boards behind the net. Sticks swinging and skate blades mercilessly carving up the ice. We see SAM. The best player in the game. Fire in his eyes, hockey in his blood. This is his kingdom. It’s his team up by a single goal for the JUNIOR A championship, fighting to hang on for the final ten seconds.

The puck squirts loose and gets passed back to the blue line. The CROWD GASPS. His opponents are going to get one more shot at tying the game. But not if Sam has anything to say about it. He rushes the point man and fearlessly dives in front of the shot. Ugly THUD!

The shot hits him square on the back tendon of his knee, Sam yells in pain. The buzzer goes. They’ve won, but at a price. Sam lies on the ice writhing in pain. His jubilant teammates spill over the bench like an avalanche. Each player then carefully stepping over Sam’s pain-filled body as they swarm their GOALIE.

OUTSIDE THE DRESSING ROOM. NHL SCOUTS are crowding the door but the ASSISTANT COACHES are keeping them out. They all want to talk to Sam about the upcoming NHL draft.

DRESSING ROOM. Sam’s TEAMMATES shake bottles of fake champagne, they’re too young to drink, and gleefully spray each other down.

TRAINER’S ROOM. Sam lays in excruciating pain on the table. His GRUFF 1950s STYLE COACH, fedora, 3 piece suit, comes in to get the status. Doing his best ER George Clooney impression, the TRAINER looks him dead in the eyes and shakes his head pessimistically. Solemnly the Coach reaches down into his pocket and pulls out the chain of hard work. He puts it around Sam’s neck and slaps him on the shoulder before turning to go back into the dressing room. “Let’s party it up guys! We’re champions!”

DRIVEWAY. 5:59am. A fat, clumsy raccoon stumbles along a wooden fence. His eyes widen as he looks down at an appetizing assortment of metal garbage cans. He steadies himself and then leaps! The cans come CRASHING to the ground.

BEDROOM. A MIDDLE-AGED WOMAN in a slumber mask is awaken by the noise. Without removing her mask she intuitively screams “You’re going to be late Sweety!”

BASEMENT. Sam, 24, several years older than in the opening sequence, hears the yelling and wakes up from his hockey nightmare. “Damn it Mom. I have an alarm!” His clock finally hits 6am and now the alarm BLARES. Groggy, irritated, he sits up in bed, and reaches for the chain of hard work that hangs on the neck of his desk lamp and puts it on. What happened to his dreams? He was five seconds away from the NHL.

DRIVEWAY. Sam, bitter, comes out to the driveway and sees the mess of garbage scattered everywhere. “Every frigging morning.” He climbs into his junky 1990 maroon Ford Windstar.

HIGHWAY 400 NORTH. Wal-Mart shirt and tie combo, Sam driving the lone car headed out of Toronto on a hot August morning. He looks to his left at the tired zombies, all in their shirts and ties, stuck in gridlock going into Toronto. Sam passes a sign saying Welcome to Vaughn then checks his mapquest notes. He’s been driving for half an hour and isn’t even close.

Two long hours later. Sam sees a sign saying Welcome to Bracebridge population 4000. He gets off the highway and pulls into the parking lot of PLEASANTVIEW ELEMENTARY. A brand new giant, modern building. Sam checks his directions, realizes it is the wrong school.

On the other side of town Sam arrives at BRACEBRIDGE ELEMENTARY. A little school that looks as tired and depressed as he is. Pleasantview is making Bracebridge obsolete.

INSIDE BRACEBRIDGE. Sam, lost and confused, wandering the hallways. He pokes his head into a random classroom. Hanging educational decorations on the wall is LISA, 25, wholesome yet powerful, she’s keeping this school afloat single-handedly. Her good looks are distracting but Sam manages to ask her where the principal’s office is without looking too stupid.

Sam sits yawning outside the principal’s office. The door quickly opens and Sam can’t believe who it is. He locks eyes with JERRY, 24, untrustworthy and envious of Sam.

FLASHBACK. TEACHER’S COLLEGE GRADUATION. Sam and Jerry in their caps and gowns as Jerry pesters a disinterested Sam. “Sam, Sam! When are we going to see each other next? Do you want to hang out during the summer? Where do you live? Here take my number. We’ll do something. Call me!”

Shockingly, Sam never called. He never expected to see this guy again. The awkward situation is made worse by the animosity in Jerry’s eyes as they pass each other.

PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE. Sam being interviewed by PRINCIPAL CLUTTERBUCK, experienced and savvy twenty-five year veteran. Sam, visibly disinterested and demoralized by an entire summer of job rejections, doles out predictable stock answers to Clutterbuck’s questions. “I’d make a good teacher because I would work really hard, be really dedicated, and change the lives of my students because I work so hard and am so dedicated.”

Clutterbuck furls his brow and sighs as he looks Sam over. “Alright well your resume is pretty solid and I really need someone before classes start. You’ll be teaching 4^th grade.” Sam is shocked right out of his complacency. He immediately perks up and says he’ll do the best job he can!

DRIVEWAY. 6am. Garbage strewed everywhere as usual. “Doesn’t matter, no problem.” Sam jovially picks up the garbage cans and hops into the Windstar.

HIGHWAY 400 NORTH. Today’s the first day of school. Sam back on his long commute. He whistles and sings along with the radio, trying to force positivity on himself.

Sam standing at the front of his CLASSROOM holding a geography textbook in one hand and a piece of chalk in the other, nervously and unsuccessfully attempting to teach his math lesson to the crazed and energetic ten year-olds. Lisa walks into the room and her presence commands instant silence from the students. She tells them to behave before handing the reigns back to a grateful and awestruck Sam.

After school, Sam walks into LISA’S CLASSROOM to thank her for helping him earlier. His small talk and lack of charm leads nowhere but he asks her out anyway. Without hesitation, she flat out rejects him, saying she’s too busy running all the after school programs. Principal Clutterbuck sticks his head into the classroom and interrupts the awkward rejection silence by requesting Sam come into his office.

CLUTTERBUCK’S OFFICE. Clutterbuck, “I think it’s important for new teachers to make an impact right away and really immerse themselves in the school. By the end of the week I’d like you to pick a sport that you’d be willing to coach for us”.

BRACEBRIDGE PARKING LOT. Sam muttering to himself about how much more time he’s going to have to spend at work if he coaches a team. A cricket ball goes SCREAMING past his ear. Sam dives for cover behind a car before carefully peering out. “What the hell was that?”

Sam recognizes a boy from his class ALI, ten years old, tall for his age and recently emigrated from India, playing cricket with his younger brother AMAN. Aman pitches another ball to Ali who hits it all the way across the parking lot. A twinkle in Sam’s eye. He’s found a cornerstone.

CLUTTERBUCK’S OFFICE the next morning. Clutterbuck is anxiously packing his briefcase with papers. Sam pesters him for money to buy cricket equipment. Clutterbuck politely turns him down by saying he’s happy he found a team to coach but there isn’t any money for it in the budget. “Now if you’ll excuse me I need to get to a meeting with the Chairmen of Education.” Sam persists, trying to explain how good Ali is. Clutterbuck rushes off, saying part of teaching is learning to be “resourceful”.

By Eric Tyndale

Did CUPE 3909 picketers accidentally strike oil on York University’s Keele Campus? Some people certainly think so, and excitement is growing. The following information has yet to be confirmed by any member of the York Senate, so for now it should be treated merely as speculation.

The following story was first reported by Hana Marku, executive blog artist for the YU Blog official website. Apparently on the fifth day of picketing, several CUPE picketers who had been patrolling the Founders RD. entrance were struck by an unusually large amount of bird excrement. To their credit, they continued to picket for nearly an hour before other protestors forced them to leave the picket line because of the smell.

They then headed to a grassy area in the North East corner of campus to clean up. When they innocently drove the wooden shaft of their picket signs into the ground, a small spurt of black liquid shot up from the grass. The CUPE members ran back to their strike captain to report what they had seen. The story was then relayed to York Security. Within two hours the entire area surrounding the Stong Barn in the North East corner of campus had been sealed off with blue-steel temporary fencing. York Security was also seen leading the livestock that inhabit the Stong Barn out of the area.

Did these members of CUPE actually strike oil at York University? “It’s entirely possible,” says Daniel Plainview, executive director of the Petroleum and Fossil Fuel Research Centre at York University. “We’ve been aware of unusual thermal activity in that quadrant of the campus for sometime now. Although I would be hesitant to say that they have indeed struck oil until I see actual evidence.” Mr. Plainview would not confirm nor deny that he has been granted exclusive access to the fenced off corner of campus, cynically being referred to as the “Oil, Oh Well”.

The elite members of the York Administration are keeping the details of this story tightly under their hats, but that hasn’t stopped Jack Hannah, President of the Transportation and Pseudo Science Division of the York Alumni Foundation, from speculating on what a discovery of this magnitude could mean for the future of York University. “Forget a 7% raise. Those CUPE members may have just solved everyone’s problems and ironically they did it with a picket sign. York University students could be on the fast track to free tuition and an extraordinary transportation system by the end of the school year.” What does he mean by that?

Well Mr. Hannah briefly described an experimental underground water transport system, which would essentially function as a giant submarine capable of transporting thousands of York Students from Downsview station to Keele Campus in three minutes. Until now, this idea was mostly viewed as pie-in-the-sky lunacy but with the unimaginable cash influx York will receive from whichever large oil company purchases the land near the Stong Barn, it could very well be in development by early February.