I Don’t Need No Doctor

Below you will find the results of my having challenged myself for a number of days to write a short story with a beginning and middle and an end inside of 30 minutes. Here is what I came up with. I hope you like it.

I went home for the weekend. I was exhausted and the dorms were so fucking noisy, so I went home on Friday afternoon. Did my laundry; watched some old Hammer films; helped my dad build some beds in the garden. Got lots of sleep. Came home Sunday night.

Turns out, while I was gone, a member of Farcical Aquatic Ceremony killed a member of Unladen Swallow.

Shot him.

The school had a big engineering department. It was unique in the nation, in that it also claimed two rival Monty Python clubs. Both clubs sponsored screenings of the celebrated ensemble’s films. They hosted costume (ahem, fancy dress) parties. They spread the word about other UK shows like The Prisoner and Red Dwarf.

The members absolutely fucking hated each other, though.

The clubs had been formed the year before I arrived, so I didn’t know any backstory about the ill will. The geeks and geekettes glared at each other from opposite ends of the student union and, of course, talked shit about one another using Shakespearian vernacular. Do you bite your thumb at me, sir?

At some schools, there’s a fair amount of interbreeding among freaks: Deadheads will mix with punks will mix with Goths will mix with theater types. Sort of a strength in numbers things. The Monty Pythonites staked their own territory and were, evidently, prone to fragmentation.

Every so often, a cute girl in a fringe jacket and Docs would tentatively approach their table and drop off an invitation to an off-campus party where bands would be playing. This would precipitate a cloud of static related to The Silly Party and The Slightly Silly Party and The Very Silly Party.

Evidently, someone in the Very Silly Party was packing heat.

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