Tower

After negotiations had broken down inconclusively for the morning, I proceeded to my classroom, contemplating my imminent lecture on Ambrose Bierce.

Suddenly I felt a smart "ping" on my right cheek and noticed a small, white, ovoid pellet tick on the sidewalk and bounce into the grass. Whirling up to my right, into the sun's glare, I glimpsed the unmistakable blue serge suit and thick glasses of the Administrator peering over the roof of the Tower with a peashooter.

Immediately as I did, the sniper ducked down and hid, his mouth a tight dot amongst cheeks chocked full of beans, more ammo against a misfire.

I was astonished. So it's come to this, I thought, the Administrator of the university taking ambush potshots with a peashooter at the faculty! I was appalled. It must have been awfully hot up there on that roof, in that dark suit.

I shouldn't have been surprised. I had heard of other incidents and realized it was just his way of making a point. What else can one expect from a man who locks himself in a broom closet to ponder and stands silently in a doorway for hours. I need have no more fear of him.

I continued on to my classroom and resumed my attention to my preparatory remarks on "The Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge," ignoring several other ticking sounds behind me.