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WHOOPY BOOKED UP
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It had long been the ambition of Sir Whoopsalot to return to higher education some day and begin his academic career anew. His first attempt had ended badly when he and the Dean’s daughter got caught “skinny-dipping” in the decorative fountain near the schools entrance. They would have gotten away with it except he didn’t know the Biology Department was growing “experimental” alligators in it. Witnesses said it had to be only the second example of “walking on water” in recorded history.
Then, there was the incident in the Chemistry lab. All had gone well until, you guessed it, he mixed the Hydroclorowhatever with the Fundulated powder. Now, any good housewife knows better than to mix those two chemicals together but housekeeping was never Whoopy’s favorite subject and he had absolutely no experience with alkaline cleansers. The fire was largely confined to the lab but the water damage to the lower floors kept classes canceled for a week. To top it all off he’d taken up the manly art of “Fencing” while in college RKTC (Reserve Knight’s Training Corps) and had “slashed and parried” every magnolia tree on the campus. He’d even tried his hand at some “Errol Flynn” maneuvers, accidently spearing the school mascot in the process. Replacement Unicorn’s aren’t that easy to find. “Touché!”
And so it was that led Sir Whoopsalot to leave that prestigious, (if not battered), institution of higher learning and seek other pursuits. He’d had some fun and had actually learned a thing or two but it was time to turn to other avenues and bid farewell to the memories of so much fun and frivolity. Against the advice of his friends and some concerned medical students he’d actually befriended one of the alligators. He really hated to see Whoopy leave.
While sitting at the “buswagon” station, waiting on the “red eye” back to his home town (Wobbly Hamlet), Whoopy spied a member of the King’s Royal Traffic Police on recruiting duty and decided to see what he had to say. Like any poor soul with “sucker” written all over him his eyes grew wide and bright as the steel plated salesman told of far away adventures, damsels in distress, Dragons to slay and Kingdoms to be won. It was all too good to be true and with a subtle stroke of the quill he enlisted and left the bus station on his way to see the world. Albeit from under an ill-fitting, badly ventilated helmet.
And thus it happened that Sir Whoopsalot through mishap, mayhem and enterprise would eventually cobble together a modest kingdom of his own. His humble abode, a modest fortress of stone and timber, was itself something to brag about in a smaller sense. His stables were renowned and he had the finest of all Blacksmiths on special retainer. His skills with sword and mace were noteworthy and he’d kept the bane of peace and tranquility, the Dragon, at bay for many seasons. Although it was touch and go at times. He’d been the voice of reason, and, at times, the King’s law at many a tax riot and this had not gone unnoticed by the King himself. Being eventually elevated to “Chief Flunky and All-Round Good Guy” his position was coveted by Noble and Common alike.
But, despite the travails and daily rigors, a dull ache of nagging purport lay deep inside the man. It often kept him up at night and left him feeling small in the presence of others. Many a lonely time had he contemplated returning to college to finish his education. As Whoopy sat one day in the courtyard of his domain he wondered out loud and argued with himself about the merits of such a folly. Would it be worth it now? Could it be useful? Could an “old dog” like him actually be taught anything now!? What would his horse think? His horse?? Whoopy shook his head and jumped up from his seat, making for the great hall in the central castle to announce his intentions to his family. They’d have to understand. And the Horse? What about his horse? Well, he’d come around. Geesshh!
Maybe age, experience and gathered wisdom could make the difference this time.
Whoopy had forgotten how much of a chore it was just getting enrolled in college. All those forms! And in parchment no less! (Boy, wouldn’t it be great if there was a machine to reproduce all this stuff.) At last, enrollment was completed and classes were about to begin. Sir Whoopsalot could hardly contain his excitement. Seems there were many “old dogs” on the campus and he wasn’t so alone after all. After all these years he was finally going to do what he’d dreaded and dreamed of for so long. Oh, to “hob-knob” with the learned members of society. To rub elbows with those who had a “sheepskin” hanging from their walls. They’d always been such an exclusive bunch. The Wizard, the Bishop and the King’s Sanitation Engineer had been his friends for years but they had something he didn’t; a college degree. He’d always wanted to belong to such an elite group and to converse with them as, well, yes, as a respected brethren. Why, they might even allow him membership in the Club. And now, serenely satisfied that Dragon suppressment duties were well in hand with his trusted apprentice, Squire Boozely, Whoopy made his way across campus to the Chemistry lab for his first class.
The rumbling explosion was heard clear across the Realm. The Queen thought the Spanish had attempted another invasion and ordered the servants to stock the Castle pantry with sardines (The King’s favorite). The Captain of the Guard narrowly missed being hit with debris that fell from the sky and, not knowing what had happened, dropped to his knees to beg forgiveness for the “Convent” incident. The Bishop, long a believer “in other Realms”, abandoned his convictions and started collecting “UFO” reports. Made the Wizard jealous.
The Knight wouldn’t talk about it. He’d recovered from his injuries and returned to “active duty” as Chief Dragon Slayer. His mustache would never be the same again and he’d sworn off of TV dinners completely. Said it reminded him of caustic soda. The Fire Marshall ruled the incident an accident but the college wasn’t insured for “trial and error” so they fought the claim. For several weeks afterward the loyal subjects of the Crown that ventured near Castle Mega Grande swore up and down they smelled something “fishy.”
The Dragon had been out of town at the “Mystics, Magic and Mayhem Convention” in a neighboring Kingdom. His mountaintop cavern had been disheveled by the blast and he was not a happy camper. Took him forever to get those pictures on his walls level again!
Peace and tranquility descended once again on the Kingdom and a festive atmosphere pervaded all around.
Of course, this didn’t apply to the Knight. He wasn’t quite finished with “higher education………Yet!”
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