It was the morning of August 25th, 2010, and thus far had not been kind. Its inception was rude and abrupt. Its morning repast was unusually light - not by choice, but rather due to a depletion of food supplies in the Johnson abode. That is, unless one were to count the one remaining moldy bagel. Not that I am above eating a moldy bagel, but at the moment, it didn't seem particularly appetizing. Nevertheless, hunger overcame reasoning. I carefully removed the moldy portions, ate what remained of the old bagel and proceeded to commence my daily commute to school - a commute which would prove to be among the worst I had experienced thus far. You see, I had foolishly fallen prey to the temptation of searching for the "Holy Grail of Parking Spots". I say "foolish" because when parking at UT, you take what the parking gods grant you. No questions asked. Much to my chagrin, this mythical "Holy Grail" did not exist, and instead, my quest sent me into the very blackhole of time I wished to avoid - downtown morning traffic. Further exacerbating the commute was the growing amount of physical exertion required to retain the contents of my bowels, which will play an important role later in the story.
After performing the daily sacrificial offering, an act which consisted of circling the parking garage for 20+ minutes, the parking gods seemed appeased and miraculously granted me a spot on the fifth level. Walking briskly from the parking garage to the classroom, I was convinced that somewhere along the line, I had committed some egregious offense and was being justly punished for it. Perhaps, it was well deserved? So be it, I concluded. Maybe I shouldn't have tossed my garbage into my neighbor's lawn like that? Maybe, I shouldn't have laughed that day when those zoo monkeys flung their poo onto that poor unsuspecting old man and child? Maybe, just maybe, I had overstepped the bounds of prudence when I kicked that pathetic freshman into that trash receptacle? Famished, fatigued, and now penitent, I resigned myself to fate and resolved to do no more harm.
The classroom I am referring to is located at 1600 Peyton Manning Pass, directly in front of the Neyland Stadium - the same site where that rather peculiar monologue was given only weeks earlier - and is called the UT Hearing and Speech Center. Being the nerd that I am, I typically arrive to school roughly 45 minutes early in order to review lecture notes, secure a front row seat, etc. This particular day, because of the foolish route I had taken, I had arrived late - approximately 9:50 am. Entering the classroom, I used my bookbag to reserve a seat and hastened to the restroom to relieve myself of the gastrointestinal burden that had been churning within. Much to my chagrin, the door was locked. Never before had it been locked, and never at such an inopportune time as this had I expected it to be. Not good. Like a navigational system that reroutes itself when one makes a wrong turn, my mind quickly scanned the known surrounding area for alternate options, weighing their distance and accessibility, and concluded that it would be best to exercise patience and wait, as all existing alternate options would be too time consuming. So be it, I concluded. Wait I will.
And, wait I did. 3 minutes. 5 minutes. 7 minutes. 9 minutes. I double-checked the door, just to ensure I had not deceived myself. In fact, I wiggled the doorknob extra hard in hopes that the rattling noise would draw the attention of the occupant inside. Still locked. Confounded! I listened intently. Not a sound. I won't lie - the devil himself presented me with the temptation of using the women's restroom. (A temptation in which my French brother-in-law Erwan would've easily fallen to; in fact, he may have even proceeded straight to the women's restroom without even first checking the men's restroom!) But, not me. Get thee behind me, Satan! A man's dignity and pride simply will not allow such. The wait continued. 11 minutes. 13 minutes. At this point, mild annoyance was mutating into smoldering anger. My abdomen churned and growled in agony. Any vestige of compunction or resolve to "do no harm" was quickly withering away.
But, alas! Suddenly, an indistinct sound could be heard from within. Straining my ears, I listened closer. Beyond the concrete walls were the muffled sounds of faucets running, paper towels dispensing, and locking mechanisms unlocking. Heaven be praised! But, in an effort to avoid a potentially awkward encounter with the mysterious occupant, I sidestepped around the corner, all but disappearing from view. A man of rotund figure, who shall hitherto be referred to as "M.O.R.F.", exited and turned the opposite direction, preventing a glimpse of full-on frontal view. Confounded, again! Had there been a casual observer, they would've remarked at stark contrast at the man who had just disappeared behind the corner and whose peering eyes re-emerged. He would've remarked at the man's drastic change in physiognomy; once calm and civil, now resembling the feral beasts of the Appalachians. He may have even remarked at his penetrating gaze; it was the same morbid stare of Medusa that turned heroes of old to stone. M.O.R.F. disappeared into the classroom - the very classroom in which I had reserved a seat - and, as he did, I swiftly glided down the corridor and rushed into what would become...
...Dante's ninth circle of Hell.
If not the ninth, at least the seventh or eighth. "(Cough, cough, cough) A trap! Oh, how wretched I am!", I muttered. I will not endeavor to embark upon an expository discourse describing the hideously offensive odor that permeated, no, that had been baked into the four walls of this room. Indeed, any attempt would be woefully inadequate. Never before had my olfactory senses been so inflamed, so overwhelmed. Never before had my nostrils been filled with a stench so putrid, so vile, so reprehensible. The most comparable experience I can recollect was my experience in the army gas chamber. In fact, I exhibited similar symptoms - irritation to eyes, nose, and throat, difficulty breathing, drooling, nausea, etc. An average man would, perhaps, rather have gnawed his own arm off than stay inside and suffocate. And, yes, I could've succumbed to the idea of barreling out of the restroom gasping for breath, but once again, my dignity precluded me from doing so.
So, summoning every survival skill I knew, I sealed my nose and mouth as tightly as my shirt would allow, only inhaling and exhaling when better judgment deemed it absolutely necessary. Business was taken care of at warp speed. In fact, the entire time spent inside the ninth circle could've lasted no longer than 60 seconds, perhaps shattering a world record. Not even bothering to check myself in the mirror, I kicked open the door, stumbled out, and breathed deeply of the life-giving air. Feebly leaning on the railing for support, I slowly made my way back to the classroom. Panting, I cast a scrutinizing glance over the classroom for anybody even resembling the culprit, but alas! he was nowhere to be found. A grimace clouded over my brow, but I quickly gathered my composure and once again remembered my earlier vow to do no harm.
An epic inner struggle ensued, at the end of which the following letter was written:
"Dear M.O.R.F.,
We are not that different, you and I. We are both capable of mass destruction, as you have clearly proven this morning. One of us, however, has abandoned his old barbaric ways in an effort to reform himself for the good of society, not wishing to inflict any more harm. In this regard, we differ greatly.
Indeed, one must commend you for the impeccable timing and skill in which you executed your cunning attack this morning, luring me into your deathtrap. It was well planned, and had all the marks of a veteran. Credit must be given to whom credit is due. I know not what compelled you, but this I do know: despite my sincere attempts at reformation, the primal instincts still remain within. Prior to this morning, they lay dormant. But thanks to you, good M.O.R.F., these primal instincts have been awoken, aroused, and provoked. Let me make this clear: you have violated the cardinal rule. And, as you will soon discover, violators will be violated. I look forward to orchestrating your demise, and witnessing your systematic destruction, my good friend. Ciao!"
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