We had to back up a
dumpster to the old college
hall, where Professor Eolith
had his office for nearly
thirty years.
A bachelor, he had no
immediate family.
He was gone now.
To the Marmalade Islands.
To study mermaids
in his retirement.
The dean of his college
asked me, as head of Scholastic
Security,
to clean out the office quickly,
so the new faculty member,
who was to teach Cyber Literature,
could move his stuff in
by the Fourth of July.
Like I said,
we needed a dumpster.
First there were all the books.
I don't like tossing books away.
Never have.
Eolith had told the dean
to dispose of them any which
way he pleased.
Because mermaids
he said
are illiterate.
I asked around,
who would want them,
and nobody did.
You can't even give away books
anymore.
Damn Kindle.
So I talked to Joe
down at Habitat for Humanity;
he took 'em all to build housing
for the poor and oppressed.
Apparently books make good bricks.
So that was one hurdle completed.
But the papers and manuscripts
and maps and quills and ferules and photographs
and sextants and mimeograph machines
and overheard projectors --
not to mention a huge desk made out
of black ironwood and bookshelves
carved out of polished isinglass.
There was all that to dispose of.
Plus a large bin of typewriter parts.
With time pressing, I told the guys
to toss it all out the window
into the dumpster.
It would have made such a wonderful
yard sale, or they could have set up
some kind of small museum with all
that stuff.
But no -- the dean said
out with the old
and in with the new.
When the last book shelf
had been broken down and
thrown out the window
we discovered it hid
a wall safe.
Eolith had said nothing about that.
No one knew the combination.
Naturally.
And no one had any idea
what was in it.
So I phoned the dean to
ask if we should get a
locksmith in to open it.
"How long would that take?"
he asked.
"Coupla days, at least"
I told him.
"Then no" he replied.
"Just paint it over.
But before we could start painting . . .
the dean was forced to retire.
Something about spider tack
on Wiffle balls.
When the new dean learned
about the old wall safe
he said "Open it!"
So we got the locksmith
in. He did some drilling
and said we could open it
anytime now we pleased.
The new dean
and most of the faculty
showed up for the opening.
The local TV station was there.
The dean let me be the one
to open the safe door.
That new dean was a nice guy.
Well, when I slid the steel
door back there was only a brown
metal canister, or capped cylinder
you might call it.
Stenciled on it was one word:
'Peanuts.'
I silently handed it to the dean.
I figured he should have the honor
of opening it.
When he did
several cloth covered springs,
painted like snakes,
jumped up into his face.
His widow has since
moved to the Marmalade Islands
to track down Professor Eolith.
