When you are going north and everyone else is going south, you must draw three conclusions: One, you’re going the wrong way. Two, they’re going the wrong way. Three—and this is most likely—you have two different destinations.
~ V. Shnodgrate
That proverb was written very neatly on the board when this professor entered the classroom.
Now, see, I was taking Shnodgrate’s poetry class. Why, I’m not sure. Probably just because.
He threw me out of class last week. But I conveniently forgot about that. It always helps to forget about things you don’t want to remember. Of course, that also makes you a rogue.
I brought Daddy Salami with me this week.
And we sat in the back.
When we entered—it was my plan to be dreadfully quiet—Salami let out a laugh.
He announced us, in other words.
They were looking at my shoes.
Anyway, that’s when Shnodgrate saw us… He came in a hury.
“I threw you out last week,” he said.
Salami and I were both sitting at this point.
“Really?” this professor said. “A wonder since Mr. Salami wasn’t here.” Then I turned to Salami, “Did you know he threw you out last week?”
Salami’s mouth dropped. “No, I didn’t…the cur! But it was rude. Hehaha. I’m back anyway. Bwa-la-la!”
Shnodgrate—to his credit—remained composed. “I threw you out, P.VJ. You. And you came back. That takes guts. You can stay, if you can tell me what the proverb means.”
I looked at it for a bit, bits, and little bits.
The class was dead quiet.
“That’s simple,” I said.
“It is?” Shnodgrate asked.
“Ya wrote it, didn’t ya?” Salami put in.
“Yes,” I continued, “it means exactly what everyone supposes it means. Which means, it means nothing other than what it was meant to mean. Which is, something that everyone figured it means. That, sir, is what it means.”
There was silence for a time.