After the story about the return to school for all the boys and girls, I had this pleasant thought about leaving the working world and returning once again to the safety of the ivy-covered walls of learning. I can almost smell the office supplies.
It was a dark and stormy night. Lurking in the shadows of an eerily immaculately maintained greenbelt and obscuring the portal of an immense and foreboding building, was the nightmare of the waking world. It guarded the threshold between the world of light and the world of dark, and its existence was to serve but one purpose: to assure that all who passed wore the mark.
The bearers of that mark were subject to the laws of its domain and the penalties of disobedience were severe. Many of those that entered that black domain, its vastness filled with rows of partitioned spaces and machinery, its air filled with the stench of despair and desolation, would begin to allow themselves to hebetate, and in so doing, would lose the edge of sanity and intelligence that once they knew. The rules that governed this dimension often held no corollary with those outside, and all political boundaries became warped beyond recognition.
For you see, this place is no realm of fantasy, it is real, it is: The Office Building. And the warden of this domain is none other than the evil more commonly known to many of us as: The Student Loan Officer.
Perhaps more frightening than funny.
hebetate / HE – bah – tate / : to grow dull or stupid.