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We are at a cocktail party of learned men and women engaged in highbrow chit-chat. Towards the piano, a biologist is describing to a rapt audience the feeding habits of the Komodo dragon, while around the sofa a heated discussion is taking place about the bouquet of California wines. The smooth sounds of Vivaldi echo through the halls.
A noise is heard from the vicinity of the door, and seconds later, in steps a bespectacled, disheveled man. Chalk streaks stain his clothes and face. In silence he stands, until all eyes are focused upon him. He reaches into his pocket, only to withdraw a plastic pencil holder. Slowly raising it into the air, he declares:
Conversation ceases. Glasses stop clinking. There is a deadly silence. Many show signs of terror. A woman's shriek is heard. The crowd quickly disperses. The party is over. The man stands alone, unmoving. As the last guest hurriedly exits, he hears, from the direction of the stranger, a distinct "Naah." |