The Superslacker and the College Student (comedic fiction)

Once again our hero SS AKA Superslacker is admonishing his class of 15 very lazy and failing students about some detail of slacking. Most of the students are on the verge of flunking out of college and have taken the Superslacker's course just to maintain an acceptable GPA.

 

Larry opens by saying: In all my years of teaching SS 404, I have never seen a worst bunch of...

Just then the same kid that reminded him before, he had only taught the course since the beginning  of the semester made the same comment. This time Larry is incensed by what he considers another smart-ass remark and shuts his eyes in disgust. He throws his hands in the air and says:

 

All right you little sons-of-bitches teach yourselves! Because I-I- I, I goddamn quit!!!! Yes that’s right I quit!

He turns and storms out of the small classroom.

This turn of events angers the other students whom know that SS 404 was their only chance to salvage their failing careers. One 6’ 5” football player with a reversed baseball cap looks back at the student that made remark and says:

 

Reckmeyer what'didcha have to go and say that for? This course is my ticket to passing, you stupid jerk!

 

But it's true.

 

I don't give a damn if it's the gospel truth, we need this course. Ain't I right fellows.

 

Shouts of approval fill the room.

 

If he really quits, we all gonna beat the shit outta you. Besides you know the old coot is a sensitive about doin’ this anyway. Why don’cha fuckin leave’em alone?

 

Hey Jake I didn’t know he was gonna blow up like that…Aww, he’s not quitting, he needs us too you know.

 

Oh yeah how jerk-off?

 

Well..well…I mean…well…I mean how can he? We all could expose him right?

 

 

Just then the Superslacker comes rushing back in the room with a determined look on his face.

 

No, no, no he says, his fist clenched and punching the air.

 

 I'll be damned if I'm gonna let a bunch of marijuana-smoking punk kids get the best of me. Okay, you wanna work hard? Okay, okay,  we’ll work hard. From now on, I want at least 3 essays of 20 pages minimum, complete with references in proper format, due by mid-semester. And another thing, I’m gonna find that Chinese girl I banished from class and and yes, I’m gonna bring her back. When she wrote a 50 page paper on my first essay assignment with 2 regression analysis charts, showing how slacking has been found in workplaces all over the country, why..why.. I thought she was nuts! I flipped back to back and there it was a mathematical theory on why slacking occurs. I almost shit! I couldn't believe this chick was doing this kinda stuff for a class like this! So I told her to beat it! And she cried like a baby, asking me "why? Why Professor Schdie", Imagine that: she couldn't even pronounce my last name. I thought Oh boy does this kid even understand what slacking means. But now, now oh boy, now I'm gonna make all yers work like she did!   And all yers will be graded on a curve based on her work! Ya like that you little bastards? I bet you don’t!   

 

He pauses and watches that shocked expressions on the faces of all the students. He knows they are realizing that this course is going be as trying as the ones they’re failing. He looks up at the ceiling as if thinking up more punishment he can heap upon them.

 

Ya know, I know all of you are failures, that you’re all about to flunk outta this college. Don’t you stupid asses know that every professor has access to all your grading records. Larry knows alright. And to think I was gonna show all of you how to beat the system. Sensing his growing power over his audience, he begins to stride back and forth.

 

You see, slacking is not just avoiding work or being lazy. Why some of the greatest figures in history have been master slackers. Take Ronald Reagan. Do you know he was never available after 3 pm for anything? He was called the Ghost President. And do you think Julius Caesar really ever crossed the Rubicon himself, hell no! And for the black guy in the back corner, Hannabal partied all the away to Rome, he never got his hands dirty fighting any Punic wars. Oh guess now ya gonna go and report me for being a racist huh? Well shit!  I don’t give a damn! I mean how do you think Guatama Bhudda got to be such a fat loaf of blubber: Slacking! Yes that’s right Slacking. You see-At this point he puts his thumbs inside his tan sports jacket and assumes a Napoleonic stance. The class is rapt with attention. Ya see, slacking is an art, a rare and dying art; I’m your last apostle of this art. When one slacks, one has to convince others that he REALLY IS WORKING. And lemme tell ya that’s not easy. If ya little reefer heads had been listening to my lecture on how to fool your boss you’d know that. Slacking is something that is honorable and I’m proud to—the same kid that pointed out he had only taught the class for one semester says:

 

But, Professor Schleg how could avoiding work ever be honorable? I mean shouldn’t you be ashamed of shirking your work.

 

Larry’s eyes cross and for a second he shudders like a person suffering an epileptic fit. He is so angered by this remark he tries to respond but it comes out as a stream of gibberish....

Why you god-mobly-damn-you-moo-goo-son-a-I’ll-kill-you-doobly—The other students leap up restraining an advancing Larry Schleg, they tell him that they don’t share this students opinion.  The football player says:

 

Professor Schleg, we’ll take care of this jerk our way, okay we’re gonna give'em what for right after class, okay.

 

Another shouts:

 

Noooo, Professor Schleg, don’t listen to him..he’s nuts, we’ll git'em outta here…you just go on, go on Prof Schlie, please, go on!

 

The student, whom happens to be of a defiant deposition, goes further in his protest with a strident statement:

 

But I’m right, ain’t I? I mean come on being proud of slacking? That’s nuts. Anybody that believes that shit is a bigger jackass than the world's first jackass!

 

This recalcitrant exhibition enrages Larry so he almost goes into orbit, his large feet actually lifting 2 inches off the concrete floor. .

 

The football player realizes it’s time for action. He motions to the large black student, whose name is DEFCON-1, they both grab each of Reckmeyer’s arms and lead him out into the hallway. Reckmeyer protests shouting at them to let him go, but DEFCON1 cups his mouth to quiet him. Outside, sounds of punches and kicks can be heard within, while Larry grins with satisfaction on his face. The remaining members of the class cringe as Reckmeyer lets out yelp after yelp. A few seconds later they return dragging him by the arms: his lips swollen and right eye blackened.  The football player speaks first:

 

Sir, I think this guy has something to tell you. Right!

 

Yes, uh, yeah, uh Professor Schleg, I’m sorry for what I said, and slacking uh, slacking, uh well slacking is the greatest profession a man could ever pursue.

 

The two bouncers sit him down in a seat right in front of Larry, whom by this time is beaming with elation and pride.

 

Ya damn right it is Reckguyer or meyer or whatever the hell your name is.

 

He turns around and faces the whiteboard with his left hand supporting his right elbow, his right hand curled around his cheek as if in deep thought, then turns back and says:

Ya know students, I deplore violence, and normally I wouldn’t have tolerated this little incident, but this kid had it coming to him. Yes, yes he did. And now, I’ll share a little secret with you. Just to show you how cunning a good slacker has to be. Do you know that the goons that run the dime-in-a-cup university actually think that SS 404 is an advanced math course in Single-state graph theory? That’s where the SS comes from. Imagine that Hunh?. You know what SS stands for?-- Super Slack, it's my own creation. He wags his head back and forth with a childish air, giggling as he does.

So, I guess you can call Professor Larry a Superslacker! He breaks into a train of high pitched squealing giggles with the class joining in, some of the students bending at their desks, spawning coughs from the respiratory depth of their guffaws.

Schleg and the class laughs, but Reckmeyer remains stone-faced stinging from his beating. He remains that way until the football player sitting next to him, glares at him. He then feigns a weak laugh.  Suddenly, Reckmeyer realizes something. Why yes, yes, yes, yes, yes… he muses mentally. Reckmeyer who is not only defiant but vindictive too, has had a flash of epiphany. He wonders what Professor Imbativel, the head of the Math Dept would think if he knew this old fucker was fleecing his dept by teaching a course in goofing-off! He remembers how all the students at the University knew that Professor Imba’ was a workaholic and detested the thought of slacking! He begins to show a wide grin, so wide it catches Larry’s eye as he is in the middle of one his megalomaniac ravings.

 

What the hell are you smiling about Reckmeyer! You wanna another ass-whipping?

 

Who me, sir, noo, I’m sorry I was just thinking how good you are at all this.

 

Is that whatcha were thinking, ummm..ya coulda fooled me, you smart-mouthed little bushsmoker. But, anyway, I’m a lenient man, Reckmeyer and just to show you and the class I’m not hurt or even bothered by your stupid, vicious remarks, Old Larry’s gonna give ya a second chance.

 

DEFCON1, the black student speaks up with an amazing clipped British accent:

 

If yer aask me Prof Schli, Eye-d saay, the mate needs a good flogging!

 

Larry does a double take and the whole class roars with laughter, realizing Larry didn’t know DEFCON1 was from London.

 

Williams how duh hell did you learn to talk like that?

 

Easy mate, I’m from Angland!

 

Oh, oh I see…Hey they have some really good slackers over there. How ‘bout that Prime Minister of yers? He winks at DEFCON1.

 

Yeh mate, he’s the worst of the bunch Eye-d saay.

 

The class goes on and Larry recounts tale after tale of his exploits in doing nothing. Finally after satiating himself on a meal of his accomplishments in extreme laziness, he dismisses the class, promising a test on the following Monday. As the students file out, Todd Reckmeyer is the first to hit the door. He heads for his small car salivating on his plan. Oh boy, his gonna git this white-haired, big-foot that insulted him and had those goons that beat him up. Yeah, he was gonna git them too! They’ll see who’s really top dog soon enough.  As he hurried to the exit of the large gray building, he hears the football player call out to him. He looks back to see him holding up a large clenched fist.

 

If you open yer big fuckin’ mouth again in there, this is whatcha gonna git, got it?

 

He was going let it go, but thought what the hell he’s not gonna come back there until his plan was ready what the hell, right?  He says: No problem Jake, no problem, and while yer at it go FUCK YOURSELF!

 

Reckmeyer beats a lightning fast retreat to his car as both men dash toward him. Outside the building as he swerves out of the parking lot passing both of them screaming threatens about what they are going to do when comes back to class, he extends his middle finger.  

 

The Student Hatches his Plan

 

The next day, Reckmeyer is at the Registrar’s Office bright and early. In fact, the office had just opened at 8 AM. It was only 8:02. He approaches a redheaded, petit young woman with a long sharp nose and large thick glasses, whom is typing furiously on her keyboard as he comes up to her.  She looks up from her Word document to find Reckmeyer with several band-aids on his face. One covers his right eyebrow and two are slapped carelessly over his swollen jaw. His right eye is so swollen it’s almost closed.  He’s got on a baseball cap (Chicago Cubs of course) to cover the large knot protruding thru his curly brown hair.

 

God, what happen to you? You look like somebody really worked you over good.

 

Kinda, look that’s not important..uh I need, uh I need a drop course slip.

 

They’re right over there next to the financial aid forms. But, look let me tell ya if you wanna drop a course, it’s easier if you just take it, fill it out and hand it into the instructor of the class. Because—Reckmeyer rolls his eyes with contempt.

 

I know that you silly bitch, I wanna give it to you Okay!

 

Hey, hey mister you don’t haveta git nasty you know.

 

Oh, I’m sorry ma’am, I really am, it’s just I got beat-up yesterday by some guys that hate because I’m doing well in this course and for no reason, I mean no reason…they they

 

Reckmeyer had instantly realized this woman could help him, and decided to play her.

 

What..what…tell me, come on, did they rape you?

 

NO! They didn’t do that! What kinda chick are you. Rape me, Damn think of that!

Well what?

Well they told me if I ever come back to that class they were… were,… I mean they said, well…

What for Christ Sakes!

They said they were gonna KILL ME!

They did, they can’t do that kinda thing here. Look uh what’s your name

Todd.

Todd that’s my brother’s name. Look Todd I can help you.

She takes off her glasses to reveal beautiful brown eyes and full lips, her looks hook Reckmeyer, who is also a sex-starved, failing, vindictive, defiant kind of guy.

 

I think you can, you see there is something fishy going on in this course.

 

Lisa Cumming leans forward revealing a voluptuous set of breasts between the folds of her low-cut blouse.

 

Yes, ya see, I think the guy that’s teaching this course is unqualified and is not really teaching uh, uh what is oh yeah Signal state Theory of Graphs. NO not that. It’s Single Graphs Stated …uh

 

You mean Single State Graph Theory. I know that course, it’s taught by Dr. Lawrence Schleg, charming man.

 

Reckmeyer couldn’t believe his luck, she knew the sonabitch, oh this was great. He touches one of the band-aids with a pained look and continues.

 

So, you think so Huh? uh..uh I don’t know your name.

 

Lisa. I’m Lisa nice to meet you Todd.

 

Yes, Lisa, I could tell you things, oh boy I could tell you things…

 

Todd, tell me things…

 

The door to the office opens and a short, thin man with long gray hair disheveled and growing over his forehead steps in. Todd and Lisa pause to look up at him. He doesn't acknowledge them, but goes straight to a stack of papers on the brown Formica table grabs them, pauses briefly to look at his watch and leaves.

 

Who the hell was that?

 

Oh, that’s Dr. Imbativel, he’s kinda crazy.

 

Did you say Imabtivel?

 

No I said Im-BA-tivel. He's the head of the Math dept here, you know’em?

 

No, but he’s the guy I wanna report this sonabitch to.

 

He couldn’t believe his good luck. Reckmeyer wanted Imbativel to go to the class and catch Schleg’s lazy-ass in the act. Yes that was it, Catch’em in the act! The act of teaching a class in how to get away with not working! When the enormity of what the bastard was pulling hit Todd, he was actually a little dwarfed by the thought of it. Oh boy this was gonna be great. As he ruminated more on what Larry Schleg was doing to him, to the class, to the University why for heaven sakes to the whole damn academic world for that matter, it made him angrier. He was no genius for sure. But, for this low-life cocksucker to deceive the university into believing he was teaching a course in mathematics (a subject he detested, and had failed throughout his academic career), when in fact he was teaching a course in in in …God he couldn’t believe it was actually happening. It was like something out of a fictional novel! But it was really happening. Then he thought how the school must have been paying him for teaching this non-course. What maybe 70 or 80 thousand? They are paying him to teach students how to to well to more or less become hustlers!  And paying him handsomely too! He said out loud:

 

It’s fuckin’ unbelievable!

 

Lisa waved her hand back and forth before his face and said:

 

What’s unbelievable, are you still with me here Todd?

 

Reckmeyer snapped out of his angry daydreaming realization and remembered where he was and what he going to do.

 

Oh, Lisa, oh baby, oh you will never believe the true story,..I mean, I mean.. the whole story of what this.. this… this, oh God I can’t think of good insult for this sneaky, con-man.

 

He looked at her pretty eyes, so hungry for a juicy piece of gossip, knowing if he tells her the whole story she’d flip with disbelief, and that’s just what Todd Reckmeyer intended to do.

 

I gotta tell you the whole thing Lisa, but not here Schleg or those two goons of his might just come here. Besides if he sees me here, he’ll know something’s up. Where can we go to be alone?

 

Well, we could go over to the Union---God not there that’s where Jake and that black Brit-DEFCON1 hang out.

 

Who?—The guys that beat me up.

 

Oh I see—Isn’t there bar or something that’s open now, but off campus?

 

Lisa, looked around and tried to think of a place.

 

Well there’s Luchy’s on David Street, it opens at 6 am.

 

I know that place, I’ve been in there!   Can you leave for a while?

 

Yeah, I can. In fact, my boss is on vacation and nobody even comes in here until 10. I’ll call Connie in accounting to come down for a 2 hours, I’ve covered for her a thousand times, she owes. You'll have ta stay outta sight when she comes down. Understand?

 

Understood! I’ll go over to the fine arts building. Just meet me where that big blue weird statue is.

 

They Make a Good Plan Better

 

Our conspirators are sitting in a booth, drinking cheap Tom Collins at a working-class bar called Luchy’s. Todd begins to tell what he knew to Lisa. They are seated across from each with a dingy, marked-up with cuts and scraps dark Oakwood table between them. His legs are crossed at the ankles, as are hers. Every once and awhile she touches his foot with her sneakers and he feels a twinge of sexual arousal pass through him. Still he wants her to understand what’s going on first, before he thinks about ‘doing her’.

 

Lisa, I want you… I mean … I won’t kid you, I think you know that. But, first lets git this big villain good. Now let me explain okay?

 

She gives him coy look and says:

:

Okay tell me what’s Professor Schleg doing that’s so bad?

 

Professor Schleg.. this what you think he is?  Professor Grifter might be a better name.

 

Hey I met Dr. Schleg and he seems to be a very erudite man.

 

Honey you don’t know the half of it. Have you ever been to his SS 404 course?

 

No. I work here I don’t go to school here. I promised myself to never mix the two when I started 5 years old.

 

Todd was distracted by this remark. He began to wonder if she had been screwed by a lot of college students. He sniffed around her. She didn’t smell bad, like that bitch he fucked last year that gave him Gonorrhea. Or so he thought she had. He remembered how he had gone to the municipal STD clinic, when he began to feel a stinging sensation as he pissed. This line of thought lead him to remembering how that cruel bastard of doctor had told him with a dispassionate face, he wasn’t having any discharge so he’d have to get a culture. Then took his penis in hands and stuck a cotton swab in it and how it HURT more than anything he’d ever felt before. He recalled letting a yelp like the ones he let out when that when those fuckers were beating him yesterday. God, he hated that doctor for having done that to him. He remembered how the whole clinic had been cleared out by his outburst when left and giggled to himself inwardly. The smile disappeared in an instance when he remembered that the lab report showed didn’t have any STD at all, just an inflamed urethra from yeast infection his partner had. It wasn’t necessary for the doctor to have caused him all the pain after all. He shut his eyes in quiet rage,  and then looked into a corner of the club.

 

Hey, Todd what’s with you, you’re staring off in to space again.

 

Oh, I’m sorry. I was just thinking

 

Why are you sniffing around me like you smell something? I didn’t fart you know.

 

I know Lisa it’s nothing I have a sinus condition that makes me do that.

 

Umm, you’re a strange skinny, lanky guy dear, and you don’t always tell the truth too!

 

Yeah  Todd smiles sheepishly and said: yeah,.. anyway do you know Schleg is not a mathematician?

 

He’s not? Why is he teaching a math course?

 

He’s an engineer and he’s NOT teaching a math course.

 

He’s not. Oh come on, I’ve seen the syllabus for the course, it’s math all right, hell if I understand what it’s about, but it is math.

 

Look listen to me, I’m in the damn course for God’s sake. He's teaching how to to to …he’s teaching how to SLACK!

 

He said the word ‘slack’ in a whisper with his finger pulled into points. His body language reminded Lisa of how Italian people talked. She giggled, and covered her mouth with both hands cupped over her nose.

 

He’s doing what? She laughed in disbelief.  How to slack? You mean he’s teaching you how to not work?

 

Yes! Exactly. You don’t believe it do you?

 

No, I don’t that’s insane.

 

But, that’s what he’s doing. You said you’ve never been to the course, right.

 

Yes

 

No students ever come to you wanting to drop the course, right?

 

Right, that is until you came in

 

You know why? I’ll tell ya--because all the students in the course are failing and need it to stay

in this college.

 

So, you’re failing then?

 

Yes, I am. But, goddamnit I don’t care anymore. After what they did to me, I mean look at my face Lisa. I gonna pull the rock off this slimy, sneaky, hustling fucker, and let the whole University know what he’s been doin’ to’em. And if I do it right those two sons-of-bitches that beat me up will go to jail where they belong. Are you with me baby?

 

I’m with ya Todd. I just find it hard to believe. I mean ‘slacking’

 

Oh really, well let me tell ya this. This cocksucker actually got mad the first week because when he assigned us to write a essay on the subject—the subject—oh brother I can’t believe I called it a subject… Anyway, when he assigned us to write an essay on slacking, we wrote serious essays, except for one guy that wrote on a slip of paper he had to go take care of old people at a nursing home. This fucking sonabitch love it! No I’m not kidding!  He loved that, he went on and on how this guy understood the whole principle of slacking…And how we--I mean the rest of us-- we didn’t and how stupid we were…I mean I can’t believe it. I can’t believe. And then, and then, and then…

 

He takes swig of his Tom Collins and continues.

 

 He gave that do-nothing an A and failed everybody else. Can you believe that? And this was the first time I’d ever really worked hard on writing an essay.

 

Hearing this account Lisa doubles over with uncontrollable laughter. Lisa’s misunderstanding of his serious sentiment angered Todd, who is vindictive, sex-starved, physician suspicious, vain, defiant, and sensitive too. He screams:

 

It’s not funny! It’s not funny! Stop laughing.

 

Do you know this fucker is suppose to quote, unquote teach this so-called course 3 days a week and half the time he comes in 20 minutes late and doesn’t even show up at least one day a week? Can you believe that? Is that not nuts! We came in one day there was no Larry. He had the nerve to leave message on the board that said: No class today my pet cockroach, Bubbles died last night, at his funeral.

 

Stop laughing Lisa this shit is not funny. To think the bastard is making maybe 80 grand doing this.

 

Lisa finally composes herself as says:

 

No Dr. Schleg makes $110,000 a year. My girlfriend Connie that works in accounting knows what everybody here makes.

 

He makes THAT much! Lisa, I’m gonna faint, it’s even worst than I thought. Well at least he’s only been running this scam for about 4 months, let’s see it’s April now, yeah 4 months.

 

What are you talking about Professor Schleg has been teach here for 2 years.

 

With this comment Todd almost spit up his Tom Collins. Then, Lisa began a little deduction of her own.

 

If he’s doing whatcha say he is, then he must have been doing the same thing when he taught Acoustic Dynamics for the Physics department.

 

He taught a physics course?  Todd inquired even more outraged.

 

Yes, we allow some of the mathematicians to teach physics—But he’s NOT a mathematician I toldja.

 

Yes, yes I know you told me! But, we didn’t know that. Boy, if what you say is true this man has been screwing us royally.

 

Lisa, I have no reason to lie to you. I mean why would I do that?

 

I know, yeah you’re right, but I mean you could be a disgruntle student that got in a fight over something entirely unrelated to Dr. Schleg—

Don’t call that coot Dr.—well, whatever, and now you wanna get him back because those bullies that happen to be in his course beat you up and you blame him. I mean I could imagine that Todd.

 

She put her left hand to her blouse, moved it a little to the side to revealing a full cleavage and almost her nipples. She could see he was staring her bosom.  

 

Okay you don’t believe me, listen I can make you believe me. I have a plan to catch this guy, but first you gotta know I’m telling the truth. Look, go to his class.

 

I can’t I’m not a student here. Besides it’s too late to add a course now.

 

It won’t matter in this course. You see everybody in this course got in from somebody else who knows it’s a scam. You just take an add slip fill it out, fold it in half, that’s the signal you know what the course is really about, then hand it to Schleg when you come in. That is if he’s there of course. If he’s not there wait until the next time.  If the others see a stranger, they get nervous and leave right away.

 

It sounds like you’re telling me the truth. But I still have to know for sure. So, won’t he wonder why I’m enrolling in April, I mean the course is more than half over.

 

Lisa, Lisa, think! Think! Think!  It’s not a course, it’s a scam.

 

Oh yeah okay. I’ll do it. When is the next uh…uh so-called class, lover?

 

Now, you’re finally gittin it straight. Tomorrow. I won’t be there and you know why. But now let me tell ya how I plan to git the scumbag. That is after you are convinced I’m telling you the truth.

 

When Lisa walked hesitantly up to the room numbered 440 and tried to open it, it was locked. She thought this strange. She tried again, but it was indeed locked. She stood there for moment considering whether to knock or go away and forget this whole crazy thing.

 

Inside, there was a different scene for sure. Larry was reading an article on reverberating air compressors used in the oil drilling industry, while his ‘students’ were engaged in passing a toy football back forth. DEFCON1 was explaining the elements of parliamentary politics to three very stupid kids, and the football player was sleeping in his chair. Two other students were playing dice in a corner of the room. There rest of the ‘class’ hadn’t even shown up.  And all this was going on while Lisa thought she’d better knock if just to satisfy her curiosity. She slung her purse over her shoulder and lifted a slight pink right arm to tap, but again hesitates.

 

I mean this Todd guy could be just playing me, for some silly fraternity prank?

 

She pulled her cell phone from her pursue and dialed Todd’s number.

 

Hello, oh…it’s you.. you there?

 

Yeah I’m here, Todd are you serious about this? I mean the door is locked.

 

You bet it is, probably because they’re having happy time, I bet the old fucker is sleeping or reading a book on compressors while the jerks are are ..well, doing whatever they want.

 

Yeah so you say, still I’ve never heard of a classroom door being locked.

 

Right! You see what I mean. That’s the way Larry wants it. Lisa honey, knock on the door, go on, knock!