Dungeon Master

Friday, September 29, 2006

Because of the mistake on my degree audit, I unfortunately return fall for one upper division class. This blows on a deeper level because I could’ve easily finished Spring (especially because I only took one class that term.) Marching down to Oregon Hall, I encountered a few wiz-kid financial aid counselors. Those savvy kids advised me to attend school half time because I’d be available for grants. Struggling to find another elective class I signed up for Creative Writing.

On the first day of class I encountered gawking freshman boys, looking impossibly too young for college. To match the youthful atmosphere is my professor, whom I suspect is roughly my age. During the break I retrieved a Tupperware container of pasta from my backpack. Proceeding to eat, several boys hesitantly mumbled stuff like, “..Cool. Pasta. Looks good… ” I nodded my head and kept eating while wondering if the meatballs looked phallic. With the exception of the guy seated to my right, they were all young bloods.

The man sitting next to me was a portly fellow wearing round glasses, in his late twenties with an advanced receding hairline. The back half of his hair looked similar to Friar Tuck with golden highlights. Wearing ass-crack exposing jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt he stared intently at his notebook. The notebook was filled with all sorts of odd drawings and formulas. During the class introduction he scribbled random notes and fidgeted in his seat. Looking closer, I noticed his cuticles were bleeding. That mystery was quickly solved as I watched him gnaw and swallow chunks of skin for the remaining class period. When the prof began speaking he closed his notebook while glancing around nervously. On the cover was a name label. Scrawled in capital letters was “DUNGEON MASTER.”

My curiosity got the best of me. During break I asked him why he didn’t introduce himself as:”DUNGEON MASTER, especially because it sounds a lot more powerful than his other name.” Nasally he said with authority, “It’s a D&D thing. This is my game book. It’s hard to draw during class.” He then turned away, covered up his notebook with his hand. I could tell he was up to black magic. *side note- D&D (Dungeons & Dragons)

Some dude trying to score points with me, attempted to join our conversation. Looking embarrassed, hands in pockets, he told DUNGEON MASTER that he too USED TO play that D&D. It was really funny because the way he said ‘USED TO’ alluded to grade school. He gave me the knowing look as in, “yeah, I know you’re just being nice to DUNGEON MASTER. Look, I’m nice too. Look, I’m getting down to his level.” To his dismay, DUNGEON MASTER didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he let out a huge sigh of disgust and continued drawing. He probably encounters a lot of D&D quitters. Hmm…Strike two. So much for casual conversation. This DUNGEON MASTER plays a hard game when it comes to exposing secrets of the dark art.

Awkwardly, EX D&D BOY made eye contact with me as returned to staring at his desk. After a brief pause, he looked up and asked, “..Umm, is that good pasta? Yeah, ummm..pasta is good…” I winked. Not distracted by EX D&D BOY I further pursued my D&D interrogation. Turning toward DUNGEON MASTER I asked, “How I could get involved in D&D? And what is the allure of D&D?” DUNGEON MASTER snottily replied, “Look I’m always having to educate people on D&D. You’ll get it…some day.” Then he got up and went out into the hallway.

After he sat back down, the teacher approached us. She said his name, and I quickly corrected her..because…geez his name is DUNGEON MASTER. (Which I said in an epic manner.) Leaning closer, I looked him dead in the eye and said, ‘Look, Monday morning, DUNGEON MASTER I expect a full report on this D&D business.’ He looked annoyed. I think, I made a friend.

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