As I straightened up, I held my hand up to quiet the crowd and then proceeded. “Keeping with the spirit of the Age of Enlightenment, I’m sure you wish to live and abide by the three rallying cries of the French Revolution. Are you committed to liberty?” I asked, pointing the mic at the herd.
“Yes!” they replied in unison.
“Are you committed to equality?” Again I pointed the mic at them.
“Yes!” was the response.
“And fraternity, which means brotherhood or union?”
Again, a resounding “Yes!” came from the crowd.
“These three rights are bestowed on you by our benevolent government.”
Once again with the mic pointed in the crowd’s direction, they cried, “Yes!”
“We are to live in harmony with Mother Gaia—all equal, all the same, all together, all in union with one another?”
The mob once again responded, “Yes!”
“Are you absolutely sure?” Raising my voice for a more powerful response.
“Yes,” they screamed back at me.
My guys at the back are making a spectacle, hollering, clamoring, and fist pumping the most. The rear cameraman moved even closer to capture this.
I asked for quiet again, as I leaned over. “So, Vinnie, you’re all for this liberty, equality and fraternity stuff, right?”
“Yo, sure mang.”
“And drug rights for all?” I asked him.
“Absolootly! I’ll drink to dat!” He laughed, as he turned to his buddies who were yucking it up with him. “Yeah mang … sex, drugs, rock ’n’ row … booze, ceegars, bongs, joynts, whaever. We shh av the right to doo it all.” The speakers thundered his message.
He turned away from me and the mic, and toward the frenzied crowd, who were all shouting and yelling with Vinnie. He was doing double fist pumps by then and in sync with the swarm. Kathy’s front cameraman zoomed in on Vinnie.
I waited for them to calm down a bit from their fevered pitch before using my hand to silence them. I then leaned over to Annee. “From all your gyrating around Annee, I surmise that you agree with all of this?”
She craned her neck up to speak into the microphone. “Oh, gnarly … like totally tubular.” Her roly-poly stature was a big detriment.
Addressing her directly, I said, “Share and share alike … everyone equal. Union in brotherhood—and sisterhood too, of course.”
Then I rotated the microphone back for her response. “It’s like totally bitchin’,” she said, giggling and cackling at the same time.
All of this was fed to the upfront camera and piped full pitch over the twin tripod loudspeakers for all to hear.
“So you’re cool with equality and fraternity with Vinnie.” I pointed my finger at Vinnie standing next to her.
“Vinnie, the bod, like totally.” She batted her fake eyelashes at Vinnie who turned to the crowd and body posed, flexing his muscles to their cheers.
“That’s really good to hear, Annee. So when Vinnie gets a myocardial infarction—a heart attack—from doing cocaine or liver failure from boozing too much or from doing steroids, you’ll pay for his health care and disability, right?”
“Huh, gag me with a spoon. No way! He screwed hisself; let him pay for hisself.” She turned toward Vinnie with bitterness, as if he had really put himself in that medical state.
Meanwhile, Kathy Owens, whose face was getting purple with rage, was attempting to attract Professor Dietrich’s attention. She was mouthing at him to “get the mic.”
“What happened to all the liberty, equality, and brotherhood, Annee?” I questioned in a sarcastic, teasing way.
Dietrich was unsuccessful at bending over trying to relieve me of the mic, as his expansive gut caused him to become unsteady on the wall.
“Like barf me out. Screw all that. He can spend his own bread.” The loudspeakers trumpeted her words to everyone.
“Get the mic! Get the mic!” Kathy was screaming, forgetting she was still holding her own active microphone, being carried on real-time satellite transmission!
My students were falling over each other laughing, as their cameraman was also transmitting their antics as well.
Vinnie turned to Annee and got in her face. I managed to get the mic right between them to capture him saying, “Isen dork, I don wan yur stinkin doh anyway, you lil’ toad.”
Dietrich made one last heroic attempt to grab the mic and almost fell into the mob. Some of the union boys, who were right up against the wall, supported him back into position.
I heard one of them say, “Dey ain’t payin me enuf for dis s**t!”
Annee screeched back into the mic at Vinnie, “Bag your face and eat my shorts, muscle head.” The front cameraman caught it all, up close and personal.
Still bent over, I maneuvered the mic to myself, while looking at both Vinnie and Annee. “Being as Professor Dietrich is more equal financially than you both, and has that brotherhood of fraternité and fairness in his heart, I’m sure he’d sell his estate and Mercedes to pay the health-care costs and disability assistance for you both – due to your abuse and trashing of your own bodies.” The loudspeakers projected my message clearly. “Because, I’m not paying one more dime for deadbeats!”
The mob was flustered now and becoming unruly, arguing one with another, and among groups, as to who should pay: Vinnie, Annee, Dietrich, both, all, or whoever.
I stood up pulling the mike away from Vinnie and Annee. I turned to Professor Dietrich who had just regained his balance. “Well, Professor Dietrich, I’m sure the troops are now ready to hear you articulate words of eloquence and elocution on the benefits and rewards of the French Revolution. Bon chance!”
I flipped the cordless microphone to him, which he almost dropped. He catches like a girl, I thought.
I hopped off the wall, leaving Dietrich with the surly mob. Kathy Owens was running to where her second cameraman was still actively recording my students who were having convulsions of hysteria.
Her high heels clicking fast, like an archaic typewriter, she screamed as she was rushing toward her cameraman, “You... [blast of an air horn]... jackass, turn off the camera, turn off the camera!”
By now I had almost reached my students, as well.
Pete, speaking to the boys said, “What a potty mouth she has. We should have brought the cussin’ jar with us.” This brought on another paroxysm of laughter.
As I ambled past Kathy, I commented with a smirk on my face, “So, how is it going today with Dietrich?”
She just snarled at me and spewed out her noxious reply, “Damn you, Lucci!”
“That’ll cost her another buck,” Pete nonchalantly stated, as another round of mirth and delirium bounced around the guys again.