"A Christmas Carrel"

Title

Description

Image of a short satirical story from the December 1962 Scripts 'N Pranks

Date

00-12-1962

content

_/\ Christmas
Carrel
l
had studied the whole day be-
the Christmas vacation and
fore
. .
was rushing _ to fm1sh the last chap-
ter of my book in those _ la~t ma~-
dening minutes before theJ1brary s
closing. :But, in the middle of the
Jast paragraph the lights went o_ut
and
J
heard the _slam _ of _the door
echo' ·: through the labyrinthine
stacks.
r
sat stunned in the total dark-
ness and slowly gathered my senses.
r
shuffled through the corridor,
down the stairs, and finally to the
door. Desperately, I pounded on it
and shouted. No one heard; the
door remained tightly locked. In
the faint light which passed
through the doors I glanced about
the main hall of the library in the
wild hope of finding some clue that
could release me from my unexpect-
ed incarceration. There was noth-
ing but the familiar, deserted, main
hall. But my eyes were attracted
to the portrait which hung above
the check-out desk; it looked
strange, it - it was my old friend
Joe Barleycornl He'd graduated
two years before; Phi Bete and all
the rest, good old joe.
Bu~ in
that
dim light he looked so wierd, so
ghost-like. Then I realized that the
strange light had distorted the por-
t .
f
rait o some anonymous patron of
th
e college and given it the appear-
ance of Joe.
In
hope of finding some security,
1
_w_andered back to my carrel after
givmg up all attempts to break out
of the l'b
1
rary, and I resigned my-
self to
.
. spendmg the rest of the va-
cation th ere - I supposed I could
get a
I
t
f
d .
0
o good studying done
unng th d
.
sure}
e
ayhght hours. But
n Y someone would come the
ext
mo .
rnmg and release me.
of
So,
1 settled down on the floor
lowrny
carrel, with books for a pil-
and my overcoat for a cover,
X111a s Issue
and tried to get some sleep. I was
just beginning to doze when I heard
moans, and then the clanking of
chains. I tried to convince myself
it was just _ my imagination, but
they were coming closer. I heard
feet dragging, my name was_ being
called; then, there before me; stood
Joe Barleycorn, ghastly pale and
hideous. He was bound
in
a huge
chain forged of A +'s and numbers
ranging from 97 to 100, and at the
end of the chain, I saw he was
dragging a huge Phi Beta Kappa
key. He stared at me with eyes
bleary with too much reading, lift-
ed an ink-stained finger, and said,
"You see me, ah yes, yes. And you
see this chain :·which I drag with
me everywhere I go. Yes, I must
drag this with me, up every ru~g
of the ladder, any many the hostile
heads and hands I've cracked with
that heavy gold key. But wait until
you see the chain that you_ are
forging for yourself - more weighty
and more magnificent than even
my own. And it will ensnare you in
traps yo_u never knew existed and
Knox Abernethy
though it will crush. others beneath
you, it will also drag you down and
someone more nimble will always
ger ahead· of you. But tonight, my
friend, you will meet three ghosts
who will try to break that chain.
Do not ignore them, but heed them
most diligently." .
And to my horrified amazement,
he faded from my sight. I wa·s now
thoroughly perplexed, and certain-
ly no longer sleepy.- It took long
hours to convince myself that I was
deceiving myself under the extreme
shock of being locked in the library,
bot, in the -end, · I once again was
dozing on the floor.
I was awakened by a voice, "Well,
son, don't go to sleep on me. Ah've
gotta few things to show you befoh
the evenin's out. Cummon." --He
grabbed my hand and we were
rushing through space - and a cold,
bitter wind was blowing. I now saw
the man who clutched_ my hand -
a true _Southern gentlt'lman with
flowing _ white _ha.ir and _ waxt:d
goate~, dressed in _a finely tailored
grey suit.
Pag(}:_5

We landed on a warm and sunny
rolling green lawn, at the end of
which stood a gleaming white plan-
tation home with tall pillars across
the front_ and surrounded by mag-
nolia trees and long rows of mag-
nificent spreading oaks.
"Now let me introduce mahself.
Ah'm the ghost of David~on past.
This is the home of a typical David-
son ginnelman of the past, of
course, and yonner he sits sippin'
his mint julep on the veranda befoh
he goes . out courtin' the most
queenly belle in the country. He's
jest relaxin' aftuh woopin' the
cotton-pickin' slaves all aftuhnoon,
writin a speech for the next seces-
sionist debate in the literary so-
ciety."
"Let's go up and . talk to him,"
I said. "I bet he'd want to know
how the dear old Alma . Mater
turned out."
"Ah, no. Ya can't go up any
closer than this.
If
ya do, you'll see
how the paint's peelin' and the pil-
lars crackin' and what an ugly face
his ole man has. You see, the past
is what ya make of it, much more
so than the future. But
if
ya make
too much of it, ya gotta keep yoh
distance, so ya . won't recall any
nightmares."
"But what about Marshal Ney,
and ... "
"Marshal Ney. Hal Ah s'pose
they's a little school somewhere in
· England that boasts its seal was
designed by Benedict Arnold and
ah'II bet they have his bust lookin'
oul over the laberry."
Page 6
I took my eyes from the pictures-
que home and was stunned to see
that my guide had turned black
and was now stooped and wrinkled
and wothless;; his grey suit had
turned into dirty workclothes, and
he was resting on the handle of a
broom.
"Yeh," he muttered, "this always
happins at midnight aftuh folks
stay awake thinkin' too long. Once
a young feller asked me what ah'd
do
if
ah ever woke up one mohnin'
like this, and now ah know - ah
stand outside the church ah used
to be able to go to and ack real
happy with all the folks who think
they're makin' me happy. But you'd
better wake up now, or they'll
think you've gone plum crazy."
There I was, awake, on the cold
dark library floor - the tall walls
of silent books towering on every
side and a few stray bits of light
sifting through the windows from
the night. outside.
I heard footsteps -
my heart
stopped. Was there someone locked
in the library with me? Some gor-
geous young . . . A shriveled old
lady stopped and looked down at
me. "So you're here, are you? Well,
get up and come along now. You're
a Davidson student aren't you?
Well, come along then. I've got a
thing or two to show you. Some
people say I'm a mad old lady
hoarding my money, but I'm really
a ghost, the ghost of Davidson pres-
ent. And have I got some things to
show you - look at that!"
She pointed to a sports car park-
ed in front of a motel. "See the
sticker on the window? Says David-
son, doesn't it? Hmph!"
"And look at that!" It was a
party, a Christmas party, a Christ-
mas reunion of old friends.
"You boys must think I'm so old
and feeble I can't hear what you
say or read your faces any more.
Or maybe you think the English
language and human face have
changed so much I don't k
nowwh
they mean nowadays. Hmphl" at
She then showed me ch
pews filled with fine yo urches,
dozing with their paren~ng
lll~n
fine young men, who had s, Whlle
I .
k'
seen n
c rm mg or ungentlema 1·
0
n Iness
the af terdance parties
at
f
.
, preached
me young sermons But
·
most of
what she showed me was hollow
laughter and tinsel and mi· ti
and heaps of food and he
s etoe
aps of
bottles and heaps of torn ribbon
and paper and heaps of heaps of
heaps of good clean fun and Chr'
ISt-
mas spirits and Happy New Year
and anything else to keep the noise
going and the heaps growing.
"Yes," she mused, when it was all
over, and we were quietly flying
back through the misty darkness,
"in two weeks Christ will have
been born, term papers done, great
times had, and glittering fabrica-
tions decorated to boast about to
all the boys back at school. You
think I'm so old I can't hear and
see all that? Hmph!
"Oh, I'm old and dried up, all
right. Some people think that once
I was young and beautiful, but I've
always been old and dried up.
Other people think that if they
give me a drink from the Fountain
of Youth I'll be young and beauti-
ful, bu.t I'll always be old and dried
up, for I am the ghost of Davidson
present. Now I must leave so you
can meet another ghost and look
behind another mask."
I was back in my carrel once
more, and beside me stood an old
man in long, rustling black ro~es,
a long entangled beard obscunng
the lower half of his face, the gho
5l
of Davidson future.
"Look down at your left hand,"
he commanded. I looked at it, and
beyond there was the new campus,
shiny with ultramodern buildings
(each with pillared facades, of
course), and there was Dr. Ma~Y-
mac, showing wealthy dignitanes
(Continued Page 24)
Scripts
'n
Pranks
j

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