Subway Fresh To Homeschoolers

Dear Readers,

My father pointed me to a blog describing a recent Subway contest. Examine Subway's official "Every Sandwich Tells a Story" page, if you like, but the one line of the contest rules that I am writing about is that which states "Home schools not eligible."

Five minutes of reading online turned up two speculations as to why Subway chose this exclusion.

First, because Subway believed homeschool entries, if allowed, would be of better quality than those submitted from other schools. I believe this to be true on the average, and assert that recent spelling bees and writing contests support my belief by showing a level of homeschool involvement and success disproportionate to the number of homeschoolers relative to other students.

Second, because the grand prize includes $5000 dollars of athletic equipment for the winner's school. To extend this speculation further, I suppose the planners of this contest believed that it would be a waste of publicity to give this gift to a homeschool (a family).

If the first reason is correct, I would like to complain to Subway that they are affirming a low standard, and excluding a higher one. Children in private and public schools may be accoladed for accomplishments that mean much less than they are given to believe, if some of the competition is barred from participation. Homeschooled children may well get a negative impression of their educational experience as inferior, whereas I wholeheartedly believe that it is (again, on the average) superior to other types of schooling. I have often noticed people who were or are homeschooled talking about their experience of homeschooling as if it were inferior to private and public school. Yet most of these people began college "early" and successfully.

If the second reason is correct, I would like to complain to Subway that they are being absurd. Homeschools need funds for athletics far more than private and public schools. Homeschools are not only short the tax support public schools receive, they are doubly short of it because they have to pay it! Most states ban homeschools from involvement in public school athletics, despite the fact that the parents of homeschool families pay taxes to support those athletics. A homeschool family receiving $5000 dollars worth of athletic equipment would be able, in most situations, to put it to excellent use. Homeschool homes and cooperative groups starve for lack of land, land maintenance, equipment, clothing, and funds for athletic fees. Homeschoolers profiting from this award would have reason to be far more grateful than a school, and it is the headmasters of homeschools who decide where their children eat for supper!

As my dad put it, Subway clearly communicated to him, as the head of a homeschool, that his business is not appreciated. Subway has said "no homeschools" and homeschools may respectfully give them what they asked for and withdraw their business. I myself might consider boycotting, but I barely ever eat at Subway to begin with.

What then is my point? To get a little rant out of my system, to add my 2 cents (whatever that means) to the murmur of disapproval, and perhaps to put forward some ideas readers may not have previously or thoroughly considered.

Nathanael Booth and the Ring of Power, Part IV

Dear Readers,
It has been quite a while since the last installment, for which I am truly sorry, but college is both busy and distracting. Now, however, with the summer come, I intend to update with more of my usual promptness, in other words, at least once a month. To refresh your memories, note

Part III
Part II
Part I

The taxi roared over the top of the hill and down the access road. Everyone looked that way, and the blacksuit menacing Nathanael began turning to face it, but he was not fast enough. The cab ran him down and came to a stop over him, rocking from the sudden stop.
“Look, doc,” the cabbie said as the four students dove inside, “I can't be responsible for your friends who stand in the way...holy moses!” he dropped his stogie as he saw the three other blacksuits. The forth stood to his feet just outside the window, grimaced, and popped his neck. There were tread marks up the front of his suit.
“Time for a little vacation, eh?” smiled Nathanael, as the cabbie gunned the cab away. “I'm glad you were so prompt.”
“When did you use the ring?” asked Graybeard.
“I counted to about three after I rubbed it before he appeared,” said Nathanael nonchalantly.
“How does it always get here so fast?” asked Georgie.
“You waited that long?” Graybeard almost shouted.
“We've got more important things to worry about; the only exit this way is behind Carter, and they keep it blocked off,” groaned Benjamin.
“Well, Graybeard, the timing had to be perfect for him to hit the blacksuit. Cabbie? Cabbie...” said Nathanael politely, leaning forward.
The stogie stopped in mid chew.
“What. Doc.” growled the lips.
“I wonder, is there a place where we'll be safe from those blacksuits?”
“Safer than here. You gotta ask to get there, though.”
“I think he just did,” said Graybeard and Georgie at the same time.
“Whatso funny?” muttered the cabbie. He reached up and whacked the meter.
“Hey!” he growled after a minute, and slammed on the brakes. “What's this? Somebody doesn't really want to go. It don't work unless everybody wants to go.”
“Oh, well,” it was Benjamin, long legs folded up in the middle of the back seat. “I just need to be getting back. I've got tests Monday, you know.”
“Benjamin,” said Graybeard quietly.
“Whatever, doc. Hop out now. Anybody else wanna bail?”
“Where exactly are we going?” asked Georgie.
“The repository of magic rings, doc.”
“Benjamin,” said Graybeard a little louder as his roommate clambered over him and out the door.
“So it's another world?” Georgie pressed.
“Yeah, yeah, now make up your minds already.”
“Benjamin, it's Friday. You have all weekend!” Graybeard remonstrated.
“I'd love to come -- you guys know that -- but I just can't; I've got work to do. I haven't studied for the tests at all yet, and...”
“That's a beautiful speech, bub, now have fun,” the cabbie gunned the cab and sped out of sight into the woods, leaving Benjamin in the dust. There was a brief crashing sound as they passed where two metal poles should have blocked the road, and then the engine roared into the distance. Benjamin sighed and began to trudge uphill towards Carter. It was going to be a long evening.

Even Nathanael buckled his seat belt as they squealed off Jupiter Road onto Scenic Highway.
“I never knew a taxi could do that,” commented Georgie, fighting back panic.
Graybeard just gripped the door handle tightly.
The taxi had jumped over the two poles blocking the road.
“Here we go, yous guys, the repository,” sneered the lips, and the cabbie slapped the meter. The winding road in front of them jerked and uprooted itself from the mountain, taking a new course directly toward the sun. They accelerated, leaving quaint houses and pine trees far below. The road itself seemed to be moving too, adding to their speed. Nathanael leaned back comfortably, but his face was a little pale. Graybeard caught a glimpse of the valley below them, and the vibrations in the cab caused him to accidentally rub his ring. They broke the sound barrier in a shock wave of popcorn, and the world they knew was gone, the sunlight reaching out around them to swallow it.
The cabbie grumbled something about after work traffic and swerved, flashing past objects so quickly the students couldn't see what they were. They were on a multi-lane highway, zipping downhill at breakneck speed. They hurtled underneath a sign:

Fairy Tale Center: 4 m-miles

Holiday Character and Tooth Fairy Residences: 2 m-miles

Magic Ring Repository: 1 m-miles

Before they could catch their breath, they decelerated hard, everyone leaning forward in his or her seat, and swerved off and down an exit ramp. They slammed back into their seats as the taxi came to a complete stop at a little stop sign. The cabbie signaled, “first legal thing he's done, I think,” whispered Graybeard to Nathanael.
And then, another marvel, they watched a knight in shining armor cross the road. When he was directly in front of them he bobbed his head in their direction, feather-crest dipping over his visor, and continued on his way.
“What are m-miles?” asked Georgie.
“They stutter!” snapped the cabbie, and then he guffawed loudly, guiding the taxi down a winding, forested road.
“Oh yeah?” Graybeard and Nathanael tensed in the backseat as Georgie's voice developed an edge. “Look, buddy,” she continued, “I really appreciate you saving us and driving us around and everything, “really,” her voice lightened for just a moment, “I do,”
“But!” she leaned forward in her seat. “You are going to have to shown us some more respect. I mean, you call that being a servant? You're passing performance with flying colors, but your attitude needs a spanking.” She sat back with a huff, and for a while everyone faced straight ahead. The lips worked on the stogie.
“That last part was a little strong, I'm sorry,” Georgie said in a subdued voice.
“d'mention't,” grumbled the cabbie, and there was another period of silence.
“In case yous guys were wondering,” the cabbie roared suddenly, spinning to address the passengers in the back, “m-miles are magic miles. One of yous's cars wouldn't never make it anywhere's,” turning back, he busied himself adjusting his flatcap.
Graybeard and Nathanael smiled in the back seat.
“Here we are, doc! The Ring Center in the Ring Repository.”
“Oh, how well-designed!” smiled Graybeard. They drove through a tunnel in the side of a circular
building, whole tree trunks supporting the floors above them, and into an open court in the middle. In the very center of the ring-shaped court was a massive, gnarled tree trunk. Walkways connected it to the upper stories of the surrounding building, windows peered out of the trunk and some of the branches, and several thin, metal spires rose through the uppermost branches, reaching towards puffy white clouds in a deep blue sky.
“Ring Center, very clever,” agreed Nathanael.
They got out (“watch the killer insects,” warned the cabbie) and tip-toed their way past scorpions and tarantulas to the door. “Lazy repository workers never get around to collectin'm again after they get sent for” he explained, and led them inside.
A gaping hole in the side of the tree trunk admitted the party and the sunlight. Curving stairs carved into the tree led from polished platform to polished platform. The leaves of the tree gave off a green light, and amber glowed a soft red.
“State the nature of your problem, cabbie,” whined a Brooklyn accent, coming from a female fairy in business casual from behind a desk of mossy bark.
“These users needs asylum, Doris, you know that! Blacksuits are out again.”
“I gotta follow pro-to-cal, cabbie; take 'em to the Pretty Seriously Almost in Charge Boss. Third floor, first platform on the...hey, I'm talkin' ta you!” she shouted as the cabbie brushed past her.
“I know where the Boss is!” retorted the cabbie, and led them up the stairs as her voice echoed behind them “You know it's pro-to-cal.”
“What kind of boss again?” inquired Graybeard as they ascended.
“Right above the Sort of in Charge Boss, and right below the Really and Truly Boss – bureaucracy, pah! You'knows?” said the cabbie.
“Oh yes, we have the same model in most of our businesses,” smirked Nathanael.
They reached the top of the stairs, and the cabbie opened a door into an office.
“But...but...” Georgie protested, staring at the door, or, rather, around it. There was a frame for the door, but no walls around the office.
“I think it makes 'em feel important,” the cabbie said in a forced whisper, and left them standing in front of a large desk.
“So good to see you,” said a portly man from behind the desk, and he stood to greet them. He wore a green elf-hat, red suspenders, and had pointy ears, but he must have been at least six feet tall, and almost as wide. The students shook hands with him respectfully, each relieved when they managed to retrieve their hand from the huge fist that swallowed it.
“I'm Lilliput, Lilliput Jones.”
The students introduced themselves.
“Lilliput?” Georgie whispered to Nathanael, “I thought they were the small ones.”
“Perhaps Swift got it wrong; perhaps his parents had a cruel streak.”
But before the two could decide which was more likely, Lilliput interrupted them with a “Well, I'd love to get to know you, but, down to business. I'm in charge of the Magic Ring Repository, or 'MRR'. We here at MRR make sure that magic rings show up in your world in magical ways, and that, more importantly, they always work to the user's satisfaction. We've been having some trouble lately. The Mean and Evil 'Hood ('MEH') has been sending agents after our ring-runners and trying to follow them back in here. You see, MEH is comprised of all the villains who aren't magical at all. The magical villains are actually not so bad; they give us knowledgeable and resourceful good minor characters a reason to exist, thereby keeping the economy going. But anti-magic villains want to harness our magic, industrialize it, and run us out of business. Since the head of the Fair Fairy Business Bureau came down with a case of Sleeping Beauty Syndrome, MEH has taken the opportunity to use some...er...below-board methods. Anyway, this is a big enough problem that we thought maybe if we brought you all in it would cause the plot to progress to a fairy tale ending in which you defeat the blacksuits against all odds, and we reap the benefits. In other words, we were hoping you wouldn't mind being the protagonists.
A lullaby sounded, and Mr. Jones pulled a cell phone from his suspenders pocket, “excuse me.” He answered it.
“Hello, Jones here. Mmmhmm. A tracking device on the taxi? They just dropped through an artificial dimensional vortex? They're about to zip line agents into the Ring Repository? I see. Thanks. Hmm? No, no that won't be necessary, we can handle it, but Al...Al? Yeah, if you happen to pass the bakery tree run by those elves, get me a half dozen double-fudge wafers, ok? Mmmhmm, they're uncommonly good. Yes, I know about the muffin man; I don't like muffins. Yes, I know where he lives...now stop that, stop that right now, Al, I will not play this game.”
He hung up and looked at them, smiling.
“You know, I got a desk job because I was too fat to be a convincing elf – user stereotypes and all. I thought I would never get to be in a real fairy tale. But it looks like I will be after all. The blacksuits are infiltrating the building as we speak. You had better get going and start causing that fairy tale ending. Here's the big clue: Find the Ring-Maker. He'll be somewhere around the ring building. He can tell you which ring to use to defeat the blacksuits.”

Bunny on a Rainy Day

Dear Readers,

I am sadly lacking in the creativity necessary to polish up the next installment of "The Ring of Power," but here is a poor poem in its place.

Upon the grassy fields he lay,
A bunny on a rainy day
Upon his cheeks and pinky nose
Alit the petals of the rose
For up above him swayed they too
The volley of the rain at two-
O-clock assailing their fair petals.

And as he slept the afternoon
The rain would never end too soon,
blue skies would never come too fast
Surrend'ring warmth and dry at last.
Then he'd hop and bounce the field
Find the carrots that they yield
to after-storm-snack yearning bunnies.

Ears leaped and waved, thinking perhaps
That they were waves on distant maps
Rolling to a thundrous gale
The snore they heard they thought the wail
Of battering wind upon their shores
That every tossing wave adores
For ever to exclusion seekest it and nothing else.

But the ears remained upon the bunny's
head, and that, twas good, and funny'tis,
Earless, though it hopped and sniffled
It might as well be called a...'miffled.'
Twas sad this bunny counted not it's cause
for thankfulness, but twitched its little paws
And shivered in the cold of the rain.

Think not the dampened mammal ill
Dreamed it a bunny-daymare shrill,
That threatened in its evilness to overpower
Even the crashing of the falling shower,
Of Fair bunny maidens with blushing cheek
and Armored-ear bunnies to bravely seek,
The fluffy-tailed emperiled.

And deadly dragons, of the form of eagles,
who clutched with talons, fighting with the beagles
to be the first to tear the fair fur of the maiden.
But bunny-braves did dare arrive to lend their aid in
defeating the monsters, not a moment too soon,
consid'ri'n the grassy field 'twas three-past-noon,
and the rain was beginning to pass.

Rain-drop on pinky nose, the slumberer surprising,
One eye first op'ed slow, it's lid unbidden rising
To unveil It's deep and moist advance
On shining a world of wetted plants
One paw stretched, front-right, from beneath
its furry...grassy...rainy....petally...sheath,
The rear-left then its adventure now began.

When done its various waking exercises,
the bunny rose with a hop and, lending me a twist of its whiskers,
disappeared into the field.

Nathanael Booth and the Ring of Power, Part III

Dear Readers,
Happy New Year, by the way.
I'm beginning to tire of finding creative but applicable ways of saying "said." I hope you aren't beginning to tire of reading them.
For part I, click here.
Here is part II.
And, of course, part three awaits you below.


Georgiana froze at the door. “Does this count as a time when a girl can get the door for a guy, or is it more...”
“Goodness gracious,” Graybeard exclaimed, slamming the door open for them, “do you really think we have time to discuss the rules of chivalry...”
“I don't know, it just seems like,” Georgie's yell dropped to a hissed whisper as they passed the second set of doors into the library at a run, “it might be even more important at a time like this when things are serious for the men to be...”
Benjamin couldn't help but laugh as they darted up the stairs, feet echoing in the confined space, dodging around two professors deep in conversation. “But that would put you at the back, and you'd be the first one they'd catch!”
“That's right!” exclaimed Georgie, “it's so hard to decide.”
“Friends!” wheezed Nathanael emphatically, “Lend me your ears!”
“What?” snapped Georgie, but she was laughing.
“Which way out?” replied the other.
“Oh! Left here, down the stairs, back door towards Sanderson.”
“Thank you! Now you may continue your argument.”
“No they can't!” huffed Graybeard, “what will we do if they're waiting outside?”
“I'll show them waiting outside,” smiled Nathanael, and he waved his hand as he ran, showing the ring on his finger.
“Oh, Nathanael, I didn't know! Who are you engaged to?” asked Georgie.
They ran in silence for a few moments. A few guffaws slipped from tight lips.
“That was awkward,” Georgie turned red, laughing at herself.
“M'dear,” Nathanael consoled her, as they pounded downstairs to the back door, “this ring is incomparably more agreeable than the variety to which you allude. Allow me to demonstrate.”
He stepped out the door and rubbed the ring.
“All clear for now,” said Benjamin from the corner.
“Not for long; I hear them behind us,” came Graybeard's report from the door.
“Ah, but I hear our ticket to escape!” exclaimed Nathanael, and he had barely gotten the words out of his mouth when the bright yellow taxi cut off a truck pulling into the campus, rumbled up the hill, and screeched to a halt in front of the students.
The cabbie was working furiously on a new stogie, and his cap was pulled down flush with his eyes. “Where to doc, and don't take all day deciding this time, I've got places to be.”
“Away!” said Nathanael, hopping into the back.
“This...this is what the ring...this is why the chapel lawn...where are we going to....?” asked Georgie as the others piled in.
“Shotgun, Georgie, and make it quick!” shouted Benjamin. The back door of the library slammed open and two of the men in the suits ran out. At the same time, one emerged around each side of the library.
Georgie wrung her hands, grumbled something about stress, and jumped in beside the cabbie, barely getting her feet in before the cab was squealing forward.
The first thing Georgie saw when she looked up was one of the men in suits running straight at them.
“Look out!” shouted Graybeard, pounding on the cabbie's seatback. The cabbie grimaced, gripping his stogie with his teeth, and spun the wheel, spinning the cab in a cloud of tire smoke and sending it shooting the other way. They took the hill past Sanderson at about thirty, smashed through a shrub into the parking circle, and were already making about fifty when they hit the highway.
Benjamin and Graybeard buckled their seatbelts.
Georgie hyperventilated.
Nathanael folded his gloves and took off his hat.
“Told yous guys I had places to be, didn't I?” grumbled the cabbie as he drove, “Almost got us all killed.”
“Almost got him killed, you mean!” retorted Graybeard.
“Whatchya mean, doc? He wouldn'ta had a scratch. Not those guys.
“What do you mean?” asked Benjamin.
“About the only thing those guys can't handle is garlic. That one woulda peeled my hood like a banana, and you'd still be cryin' for your mommas.”
“Graphic!” Nathanael ran a hand through his hair, then began drumming on the door, watching the landscape hurry by. “I say, where exactly are we going?”
The cabbie slammed on the breaks. “You's the boss.”
“I've got class,” said Benjamin.
“I'm late for work,” admitted Georgie.
“Back to campus, then,” sighed Graybeard, “if you don't mind, that is.”
“You's the boss!” repeated the cabbie, “those guys'll be gone now.”
“Spoil-sports,” whispered Nathanael as the cabbie turned around.
Halfway back to campus, Georgie turned to the Cabbie with a friendly smile. “My name's Georgiana Vurner.”
“I'm so happy for you,” spat the lips.
Benjamin had a coughing fit in the back seat.

“I almost forgot!” said the cabbie as they piled out in Mac circle, glancing suspiciously up at the library. The groundspeople were there, shaking their heads at the tire marks, but no men in black suits.
“You's guys get the frequent user promo:” he grabbed a tin from beneath his seat and popped the lid. Inside were a collection of cigars.
“Oops,” said the Cabbie, and he rummaged for another tin.
This one contained rings.
Benjamin dug around with his hand.
“Come on, come on,” growled the cabbie.
Benjamin selected a ring with some sort of symbol overlaying a banner.
Graybeard took one with a jagged star burst design.
The cabbie slapped the lid back on.
“Hey!” said Georgie. “What about us?”
“Mister hat-and-gloves 'as already got one. One only, that's the rules. And you are no frequent user. You was only here this time. Now see ya!” and he roared away.
“Nice meeting you too,” rumbled Georgie.
The four watched the cab disappear and then Georgie and Nathanael turned their attention to Graybeard and Benjamin.
“Who wants to try theirs first?” asked Georgie.
“You can go, Graybeard,” offered Benjamin.
“Well if you insist so strongly...” Graybeard rubbed his ring. Immediately, a shadow fell over the little group. A rumble started somewhere above them, grew, and turned into a cascading crackling, popping sound. The air was thick with electricity.
Georgie and Benjamin moaned under their breath. Booth opened his umbrella. Graybeard grinned nervously.
“Aaaahh!” screamed Georgie, throwing her hands over her head.
“It's like, a thousand white messengers of...buttery goodness!” laughed Benjamin.
“Manna from heaven!” agreed Graybeard.
Nathanael peeked out from under his umbrella, caught a falling kernel, and chewed it slowly.
“No salt. How disappointing.”
The popcorn storm ended almost as soon as it had began, and covered only a small area. Passing students barely gave it a second glance. Clearly, someone had just dumped a bag of popcorn out their window.
“Well, Benjamin,” sighed Graybeard, “let's see yours.”

Fifteen minutes later they were still trying to get Benjamin's ring to work.
“Weeeee could try rubbing it underwater,” suggested Georgie.
“We tried that while you were on the phone,” sighed Graybeard.
“Oh.”
Nathanael laughed. “I know, maybe it responds to a vocal command. Open Sesame! Ring around the rosy! A gold ring in a pig's snout! Silver bells are ring-ing...” they all stared at the ground. “Well, I'm sure we'll find out what it does someday,” comforted Nathanael. “At least there's still a chance it's better than Graybeard's.”
“His is practical!” retorted Benjamin angrily, but then he grinned, “no more microwave stuff for us!”
“Well, guys, this has been fun, but I'm really late for work,” said Georgie, and they all scattered to their scholarly occupations.
A few minutes later, a golfcart pulled into the campus off the highway. Onboard it sat four figures in dark suits and glasses. Each one placed a strange, wand-like object inside his coat as the cart stopped,
and then they headed off in different directions.

Nathanael was whistling as he finished his day's work in Technology Services and strolled back to Maclellan Hall. It had been a busy but productive day, and he was satisfied. Who wouldn't be, with a magic ring on their finger? As he neared the entrance, he saw a few men of Sutherland poking their heads out the windows, black waterguns at the ready for anyone they wanted to prank.
Benjamin was in his room on the second floor of Mac Hall, sorting books as he prepared to go study. Victorious shouts of laughter from across the hall told him that his fellow Sutherlanders had shot another unsuspecting victim from the window. He ducked across the hall to see who it had been. The guys were draped across the furniture in stitches of laughter. It took Benjamin a good minute to get an explanation out of them.
One started to explain. “We were aiming for a girl, and, and we hit this guy in a black suit.” Benjamin froze. “He was like, administration or something. He whipped off his sunglasses and looked so mad!”
“Where did he go?” asked Benjamin, dead serious.
“To the front of Mac, I guess...why?” but Benjamin was already gone.
As he rounded the corner of the hall, heading for the stairs, the elevator door chimed and slid open. Not one, but two men in black suits and dark glasses gazed through it at him. He crashed through the door into the stairwell, his shaking hands dialing Graybeard's number as he sprinted up to the third floor – Nathanael's floor.
“Graybeard, it's Benjamin; the men in the suits are on the hall; call Georgie, tell her to meet us...to meet us at the road out back. I'm going to get Nathanael.” he flipped his phone shut as he rushed down the hallway. He pounded on Nathanael's locked door, but there was no response.
“Look, I'll be glad to open it...” Nathanael began to joke, walking up behind him.
Benjamin jumped and gasped. “Nathanael, you scared me to death. How'd you get up here?”
“The back stairs, why?”
“The men in the suits...” down the hall, the elevator dinged. Benjamin quietly thanked God for the slow Mac elevators as the doors opened, disgorging the two black figures.
“So much for a quiet evening with Bob Dylan, I suppose,” muttered Nathanael, and they ran the other way, for the back stairwell.
They burst out of the back doors at a run and headed down the steps for the access road, looking around for the others. They were nowhere to be seen.
Nathanael pulled off a glove, “What do you think, should I use it now?”
“We should wait; the cabbie might leave and not come back if we tried to make him stick around for Graybeard and Georgie.”
“We can't wait much longer; those blacksuits are gaining on us.” The two students broke into a run up the access road.
It was at that moment that they heard a call behind them. Graybeard and Georgie were coming along the road from the other direction, not noticing the two blacksuits about to enter the road almost on top of them.
“We're boxed in,” mused Nathanael, as Benjamin hand-motioned frantically, trying to warn the others.
“Now will someone explain why I was so rudely jerked from a stimulating conversation, to kidnap a girl (not that I dislike your company, of course, Miss Vurner)?” began Graybeard.
“Look!” Benjamin pointed with both arms. The blacksuits were spreading out, surrounding them, and they drew short, shiny black wands from their coats.
“What do we do, guys?” whispered Georgie. The four formed a circle, back to back.
“Other than pray?” hissed Graybeard.
“If only I had my staff,” muttered Benjamin.
“Just a little longer...” whispered Nathanael. The blacksuit facing him walked forward, and, with a smirk, extended his wand.

Nathanael Booth and the Ring of Power, Part II

Dear Readers,
It is a truth, and not a sad one, that I too must live out my life, as do my characters. The sad part is when my life does not involve recounting theirs. If I had nothing else to do but write, this would have been posted long ago. But if I never did anything but write, I would have nothing to write about. So, with that convoluted excuse for the delay, please enjoy this second segment. To see the first installment, click here The rest, I truly hope, will follow quickly on its heels.

"I suppose it was about time they took me away," muttered Nathanael, as the motor of the cab rumbled, interrupting the crows in their good-mornings, and sending echoes off the chapel walls. Students across the lawn stared in surprise, but a few were already turning away to hurry on to their classes. Stranger things had happened.
"Excuse me?" said Benjamin after a moment.
"You're excused," murmured Nathanael, pacing back and forth behind the other two, taking off his hat to run a gloved hand through his hair.
"What's the matter? Don't you's guys know where you're headed?" the lips spat out from around the stogie. "If so, please, say so; I 'aven't got all day, y'know."
"I think you've made some mistake," stammered Graybeard.
"No! Wait!" shouted Nathanael, clapping his hat back on his head and stepping forward.
"Where exactly can you take us?"
The face scrunched itself up even more, almost swallowing the stogie in cheek and chin.
"Where exactly can you pay for, doc?"
"Rates?" inquired Nathanael casually, drawing out his wallet, his umbrella hanging in the crook of his right elbow. But in his other hand the ring still lay, and he played with it as he flipped open the wallet.
"Nathanael!" interrupted Benjamin, "what...?"
"Who you trying to fool, doc?" asked the cabbie. "That ring'll get you's guys wherever you wanna go."
"Then Sanderson, good man, and make it quick; we're late for class." Nathanael opened the rear door and turned, motioning his friends inside.
"You're joking," said Graybeard flatly.
"You're late for class," tempted Nathanael.
Benjamin glanced around, shrugged, and dove into the cab. "Anyway, why not?" he laughed, and stuck his head back out to grin at Graybeard. "Come on!"
"For Pete's sake!" laughed Graybeard, but he followed Benjamin into the cab. Nathanael hopped in, compressing the other two, and slammed the door. "Drive on!" he exclaimed, tapping his umbrella on the back of the driver's seat.
"Don't get prissy, doc," came the reply, and the cab leaped forward, spewing turf behind it.
"Oh! Drive carefully or you'll tear up the lawn!" entreated Nathanael, but to no avail. ("What'd'ya think this is, landscaping service?" grumbled the cabbie.)
It took perhaps thirty seconds to cross the lawn, squeeze past the library, and arrive at Sanderson Hall. The three students piled out, Benjamin turning red as he noticed others staring at them.
"Come on!" he whispered, tugging on Nathanael's jacket-sleeve.
"Well! Thank you!" said Nathanael, leaning down to speak into the cabbie's window.
"D'mention't," the cabbie revved the engine.
"Any chance you could wait around for an hour and...um...pick us up?" ventured Nathanael, throwing his arms into the air in a gesture of wild speculation, the ring still in one hand.
The cabbie rolled his eyes, and, removing his stogie, leaned out the window.
"This is a cab, bub, not a limo. See ya." And with a roar of the old engine, he was gone, dropping off the curb at the bottom of the hill and squealing onto Scenic Highway.
"None too soon; let's get inside," said Graybeard, grabbing Nathanael by the shoulder with one arm and motioning towards an approaching staff golf cart with the other. The three entered the building and rushed to their respective classes, hoping no one had recognized them in the cab. Nathanael, as he removed his gloves, dropped the ring into one of them.

“Gentlemen, I have let fall the proverbial legume side dish,” grinned Graybeard as they regrouped in Sanderson lobby after class.
“Spilled the beans?” Nathanael forced a chuckle, nodding his chin at his friend, “that's terrible.”
“Yes, I ought to have said it,” laughed Benjamin, and then, speaking past Graybeard, “Georgiana Vurner! What are you up to?”
“I think she's the one upon which our friend let fall...” began Nathanael.
“Let's go take a look at the chapel lawn!” interrupted Georgie, “I want to see the wrathful looks on the faces of the ground's team,” her whole face contributed a huge smile and she bounced, hands clasped in front of her, but then suddenly her hands and face fell, “this makes me sad, though, guys. You'll be doing so much Practical Service to make up for it I'll never get to see you anymore.”
“I assure you, we had nothing to do with it, m'dear,” said Nathanael, at the same time ramming through the difficult Sanderson doors and motioning them on with his umbrella. “It was entirely due to the cabbie's driving.”
“And by the way, Nathanael?” said Georgie as they exited the building, “what you were about to say about Graybeard spilling beans on me is a little grose.”
The walk from Sanderson to the chapel lawn was a short one.
“I've got to be in the library for work anyway,” noted Georgie, “this will be...oh...my...goodness!”
She had been correct in her prediction of the groundspeople's dispositions. They mulled about beside their maintenance cart, shaking their fuming heads, as several men in suits examined the tracks and conversed with each other. The cab had torn four deep swaths through the sod all the way across the lawn. Pieces of turf were lying everywhere.
“Maybe they'll pay us for aerating, but somehow I don't think so,” murmured Benjamin.
Graybeard sighed. “Why did I get into the cab?”
“Chin up,” said Nathanael, his voice, for once, almost serious, “they don't know it was us, yet.”
“Are you sure about that?” Georgie giggled nervously, “because they're coming this way.”
“What?” gasped Benjamin.
It was only too true. The men in the suits were walking, four abreast, straight for the four friends. There was no one else near them; the men must have been told who it was rode the cab across the lawn.
“Since when does the administration wear sunglasses?” asked Georgie, backing towards the library door.
“Do you recognize any of them?” Graybeard asked suddenly, sharply.
The others replied in the negative and began backing with Georgie.
“Guys?” whispered Georgie, “are they running at us?”
“Booth, the ring!” shouted Graybeard.
“No, no time,” snapped Benjamin. The men were almost to them, coattails flying in the breeze, polished black shoes tossing dew with each purposeful stride.