“It is Gert, Gert Hans. And I promise you that I will have you and your roommate thrown out of this school.”
“Listen, Hansel, I was sleeping. I was having this weird-ass dream about huge Pop-Tarts. I have no idea why you are out here soaking wet and in a towel. And why do you not have flip-flops on? Oh, please don’t tell me that you go into a public shower without footwear? That is just disgusting. That’s how people get foot fungus. Man, you’ve been in school long enough! Haven’t you learned anything?”
Gert was so sure that he had nailed Mike, that he was completely put off by Mike going on the offensive.
“I know you did it,” he said weakly. “I know you did everything.”
“I’m a little sick of your accusations. You’ve written us up five times for puissant violations and now our academic careers hang in the balance because you’re a control freak. My roomie and I have walked the straight and narrow for almost three weeks. I was hoping for some congratulations, but instead, you accuse us of even more trouble-making. I’m sure the list of folks who loathe you is a relatively long one. Maybe you should go back and rethink who else would do this to you.”
Gert stood there, anger flaring, his skin tone changing hues, from blistering blue to raging red. Paul was certain Gert was about to go ballistic.
“Um,” Debbie interjected into the testosterone fray.
“What?!” Gert spat.
“Umm, you’ve got a little something hanging out,” she said, pointing down.
Gert was so lost in his anger, he did not know what she was talking about.
Mike looked down and then made his pinkie finger fold and unfold. “The lady said you have a little something showing,” Mike laughed.
Paul almost went to his knees, tears running from his eyes as Gert’s red rage turned to a fevered flush when he realized he had just exposed himself to a girl.
“You know, I’d say you could get in a lot of trouble for that if we had actually been able to see anything,” Mike yelled to Gert’s retreating back.
“What did you do?” Paul asked Mike.
“Dude, I’m serious. I was snoozing hard,” Mike answered his friend.
Paul turned to Deb who was now wearing a wicked smile. “What did you do?”
“Pretty much everything he said Mike did. I waited until I saw him head for the shower, then I went and shoved half a tube of super glue into his door lock. Then I waited until I was pretty sure he had just lathered up his head in shampoo, then I pulled the fire alarm.”
“That’s kind of risky; what if someone had seen you?” Mike asked her.
“I went to the third floor lounge and did it. No one ever goes there unless it’s to study and nobody does that at three on a Friday afternoon.”
“I thought we agreed to wait a couple of days?” Paul asked her.
“I did, but I changed my mind.”
“Nice.” Mike said, shaking his head in disbelief. “He looks like he’s about to cry.”
Gert was over by the fire truck, yelling at whoever would listen that someone had pulled the alarm on purpose and that they just wanted him to come out into the cold weather in merely a towel. The fireman was hardly even acknowledging his existence as he checked on the truck equipment.
“I need to get back inside before I catch pneumonia!” Gert was screaming now.
“Listen, kid,” the fire captain was saying. “We’ll let everyone including you in when we are convinced it’s not a real alarm.”
“I’m telling you it was not. It was pulled specifically while I was in the shower so that I would have to come out here like this. I even tried to go back to my room, but I could not get back in.”
“Dankins,” the chief yelled over to one of his subordinates. “Could you please get this kid a jacket and shut him up? I’ve got better things to do than play baby sitter with him.” And he walked away.
Gert looked like a war refugee, all wrapped up in an oversized fireman jacket, huddled up on the stoop of the truck. Paul and Mike didn’t know if Gert’s winning charm had won the captain over, but it seemed to them to be one of the longest fire alarm resets that they had ever been through.
“Man, he is never going to take a shower again,” Paul said, as the three of them sat in Debbie’s dorm room.
“I wasn’t kidding when I called him on the whole taking a shower thing anyway,” Mike said. “He always smells like ripe sauerkraut.”
“That’s so gross,” Deb said, holding her nose.
“Great prank by the way,” Mike told her, and she blushed slightly.
“Thank you,” she said, doing a small curtsy, that did not go unnoticed by Gert.
He did not know for what reason she had performed the small bow, but that she was flaunting her body to those two good-for-nothings infuriated him.
The trio laid off Gert for close to two weeks. The guy was wound so tight, he wouldn’t even go out anymore to get food. He had delivery come two weeks straight.
“I don’t think he’s even been to class,” Paul said to Mike as they watched the Chinese food deliveryman leave the building.
“Was that for Gert?” Deb asked, catching up to the two boys and pointing back towards the driver who had gotten in his car and was getting ready to leave.
“Yeah, that’s the third order of Chinese this week,” Mike said.
“I almost feel kind of sorry for him,” Deb said.
“You should. You’re the one that gave him the flu,” Paul said.
“He should have gotten a shot like the rest of us,” Mike said, absently rubbing his arm where the vaccine had been administered a month prior.
“Are you going to keep messing with him?” Deb asked.
“Hey, you’re the one that brought it to a whole new level,” Mike told her.
“Maybe we should stop, maybe he’s finally figured out that he can’t just do whatever he wants around here because he has a clipboard,” Paul said.
“That’s two warnings!” They could hear Gert yelling from the hallway. “One for keeping an excess of garbage in your room and the other for not making your bed!”
“Not making your bed? What the hell is he talking about?” Paul said as the three went over to the door and looked out.
Residents up and down the hallway were looking to the fuss, Gert was walking into rooms and going ballistic, writing students up for infractions that he seemed to be making up as he wrote.
Most students got the message and began to close their doors, hoping to escape the wrath of Gert Gone Mad. Paul was one of them.
“Leave it open,” Mike said.
“What are you doing, Mike? Look at him; he’ll write you up for your shirt,” Paul nearly whined.
“What’s wrong with Ozzy Osbourne?” Mike asked.
“Fine. I’m going to start packing my things.”
Gert was making a beeline for the only door still open. Mike stepped in his way just as Gert was about to enter.
“Whoa there, pardner,” Mike said with a Southern drawl. “Where you going in such a hurry?”
“Mandatory room inspection!” Gert was nearly frothing at the mouth, his pen was already making contact with the clipboard.
“On whose authority, Gert?” Mike asked him.
“What?! You dare to stop me!? On my own damn authority!” Gert raged, and then made a motion to push past Mike.
“Listen, asshole,” Mike said, pushing Gert across the hallway to the far wall. “I’m going to say this real soft so that you can’t subpoena any witnesses, so pay attention.” Mike got right up to his ear. “You ever try to enter my room without my permission, I will beat you to within 2.58 centimeters of your worthless existence.”
The rage in Gert’s eyes cleared for a moment as he looked into Mike’s eyes, trying to ascertain if this were an idle threat and whether he should continue with his mission as planned.