It was a muggy Missouri evening. I had spent the day in my gorilla suit, walking around campus and playing Gonga. Thankfully I spent a good part of the day sitting in the shade at Speaker’s Circle, playing my accordion while my buddies handed out flyers.
I was hot. I was sweaty. I was stuffed up from that ridiculous cold which had decided to make me it’s pet and kept me from hearing much of anything. So I probably stank as well. But at least I couldn’t smell myself. I’ve never washed my costume…never mind.
I saw the familiar flash of white teeth and curly black hair as my campus nemesis, the shin-kicker turned down the street ahead of me. Thankfully he hadn’t seen me. He swung easily along, his huge knees bending at each step and his feet seeming poised, even at this distance, to fling a kick at the shins of any haphazard passerby who happened to be dressed in an anonymous gorilla suit. At least, that’s how he always treated me. I had taken to avoiding particular parts of campus at particular times because of him.
I slowed to a shuffle to let him get further down the street. It would be a good end to the day if I could avoid him.
He turned down an alley, his neon green backpack flashing in the dusk.
I breathed a sigh of relief. And yes, I took my time. Let him get as far away as he wants.
But of course, things never happen the way they should.
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