Tag: university

Mrs. Frobisher’s Heir

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“Roland, I adopted an heir,” Mrs. Frobisher said one day. My name is actually Steven, but Mrs. F renames all her employees. She said it was so she could remember all their names. She paid well, and the economy was bad, so no one really complained.

“Congratulations, Ma’am,” I said.

“I want you to see to his education and such, Roland. He just has so much potential. I look forward to seeing him bloom under your guidance.” She looked at me sternly, and I understood that there had better be blooming or my job was over.

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

“Excellent.” Mrs. F opened the side door to her office that no one else is ever allowed to open and called out, “Harold, come meet your new friend Roland.”

There was a shuffling sound, and I leaned forward. Out of the darkened room came a chimpanzee dressed in a little three-piece suit. It looked at me and scratched its side absently. “Isn’t that—” I began.

“Yes, this is Harold,” she interrupted. “Harold, meet Roland.”

Was it a joke? It didn’t seem like it. I held out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Harold. I look forward to working with you.” Harold looked at my hand and then slapped it before wandering off.

“Children these days,” Mrs. Frobisher chuckled. “He’s going to be a handful. All the bright children are, of course. Well, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” She sat at her desk and pulled out some paperwork that she held upside down.

I turned to Harold, who was digging through the wastebasket. I wanted to cry. With my salary, I just barely made rent and not even the fast food places were hiring. Chimp or not, Harold was going to bloom. I pulled out my phone and started texting.

Harold learned quickly. I found him a tutor, and he mastered enough sign language to get through his expensive private school. He was a whiz at multiple-choice tests. Between that and some over-helpful tutors, Harold managed to graduate and ace the college entrance exams. He was accepted at a small but prestigious university, helped along by a large, well-timed donation from a proud Mrs. F.

Well, that’s that, I thought as I read the acceptance letter. He’s bloomed. I happily prepared to deliver the acceptance letter and go back to auditing accounts or something. Someone was hired years before to take over my former duties, but surely something was available.

Mrs. Frobisher set down the letter with a happy sigh. “Roland, you’re doing so well for my Harold. I’ll arrange for an apartment for the both of you near the university so you can continue to advocate for my dear boy.”

I felt faint. “Mrs. F?”

“Oh, don’t worry. The company will partially reimburse you for any classes you wish to take to further your education while you’re there. Harold will still be your priority of course.” She gave me that look again. The economy was still pretty bad, too.

Oh well. I always wanted to get an MBA. And I became rather fond of the little guy too. How would he manage without me?

So, Harold and I went away and got degrees. Harold’s talent for multiple-choice tests was as sharp as ever. Mrs. Frobisher cried at his graduation. Three months later, she passed away unexpectedly.

To my surprise, she changed her will when she adopted her heir, leaving Harold in my care and everything else to him.

Yes, the company too.

Remarkably, under Harold’s leadership the company did better than ever. I prepared any decisions he needed to make as a multiple-choice test, and otherwise he was pretty hands off and let people do their jobs. He was very popular.

Far too soon, Harold grew old. He moved more slowly and was less interested in doodling on the reports from the department heads. He didn’t have any children (despite some awkward blind dates set up by Mrs. F) so I helped him turn the company over to the employees.

Harold helped me narrow down the list of candidates for CEO, and then we left it to a company-wide vote. I nearly spit my cocoa on Harold when I read the results. I had won the election as a write-in candidate.

Harold was able to stay in the little apartment behind the door no one else is ever allowed to open. I did my best for the company. When Harold passed away, thousands came to his funeral.

I stood by the casket, shaking hands and trying not to cry. A child approached and wrinkled up his nose. “Mom,” he said, “It’s a monkey.”

“Hush, dear,” his mother said. “The funeral home just did a bad job. Poor man. They should have had it closed casket.” They moved on.

I felt lost. Maybe, I thought, I should start renaming all my employees. Maybe I should find an heir.

I originally posted this on my blog, stbirdblog.wordpress.org, on October 26, 2016. I like how the illustration turned out on this one.

The Very Lazy Cat

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Once there was a supremely lazy cat who loved to eat fish. However, he loved fresh fish best, and he lived far from the ocean. He dreamed of living right next to the ocean, so that he could be closer to his favorite food.

Perhaps, he imagined, it might be even better to live inside the ocean. He had visions of just opening his mouth and having dinner swim inside. It sounded marvelous.

Of course, the problem was that the ocean is a bit wet, and he didn’t want to deal with that. Being all wet was uncomfortable. It meant that his fur felt odd and stuck up in the wrong direction for days and days afterwards.

The cat did some research by stepping on the remote until the magic box showed him what he needed to know. This took longer than expected. The magic box seemed much more interested in people than fish. Well, that left more fish for everyone else.

However, his patience finally paid off, and the cat managed to learn a number of different interesting things about the ocean. Using this information, he began to develop some plans. Each, of course, had their pros and cons.

His first idea was to find a submarine. Inside a submarine, he wouldn’t have to get wet, even at the bottom of the ocean. After some thought, he realized that there would be no way to actually touch the fish from inside a submarine.

Another possibility was becoming a mercat. This seemed to be a great way to effortlessly enter the water and approach fish. Unfortunately, then he’d always be wet all the time. Even worse, he’d be half-dinner. That sounded dangerous. He really loved to eat fish.

His final idea was to convince the fish to walk up on land and into his mouth. On second thought, he wanted them to walk into his supper dish. Then he could eat around the bones. It was much easier that way, and he really was a very lazy cat. He wouldn’t have to move, and he wouldn’t have to get wet. This idea didn’t seem to have any downsides.

First, the cat needed to learn hypnosis. He experimented with convincing his humans to feed him more often. Unfortunately, the magic box made it all look easier than it really was. He soon realized that he needed more information than the box could provide.

And so, the cat ran away to join a university. After a year of attending lectures of various levels of boredom, the cat had learned enough information to hypnotize passing students into sharing their lunches.

He was ready develop a plan. That may seem quick, but he was a smart cat. It takes a lot of brains to develop the ultimate lazy scheme.

With some effort he left plans in the homework folders of various engineering students, tricking them into building and fine-tuning a solar-powered megaphone. He used the skills gained from a year’s worth of graduate-level theater classes to record an appropriately hypnotic and enticing suggestion. It was easy to convince the computer science students to program the recording into the megaphone as an extra, ungraded assignment.

The cat tested his new fish-attracting device. It sounded like masses of fat, juicy worms and buzzing flies. Research on the magic box told him that fish liked worms and insects, but the reason why remained completely mysterious. How often did worms and bugs go swimming? Why would fish go seek them out?

With his new device in hand, the cat ran away to the beach. With a little searching, he found an abandoned home in an out-of-the-way place near a small stream. If the people who left it returned at some point, he was fairly sure he could charm them into letting him stay.

He set up his fish-attracting device facing the ocean, turned it on, and waited. It didn’t take long for the fish to come. It worked so well, that he turned it off after a few seconds. He didn’t want to empty the ocean, after all.

Now that he had water, and fresh fish, and shelter, the cat was perfectly happy. He had everything he’d ever dreamed of. He hardly had to move at all. He lived to a fat, happy, old age. He was a profoundly lazy cat. Probably the laziest cat of all.