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The Night Watch

5

Schooled

(An Ongoing Saga by Steven R. Harrel)

(Taken from concepts found in “This Side of the Whirlwind”)

Thursday, October 19th, 2017, One day after the Chicago Incident

The shouting could be heard as far away as Lou Mitchell’s Bakery and Market on Jackson Blvd; that would be equivalent to about two blocks in any direction.

“I don’t care what your stinking excuse is Jax, you somehow allowed those two-bit preachers to dodge us all night, time and again!” Sandar said yelling in Jax’ face, “And I can’t believe you’re blaming Julia for stopping you!  It would’ve been, uh, uh, such perfect timing.” Raising his voice another decibel Sandar shouts, “Aah, you imbecile!”

Outrage coloring her face, Julia joins the shouting spree, “Listen here, Mr. Sakarri, I will not be spoken about or to in that fashion!  Jax neither allows nor…!”

“Ah, shut up you stupid woman!  You ruined everything!” Sandar sneers at Julia as he turned towards Jax again.

If at some later date you’d ask her, Julia would not be able to explain why she pulled back and felt so utterly stifled by Sandar’s outburst.  As a result, Julia reluctantly stepped back allowing her man, Jax, to come to her defense; that was so un-Julia like.

Jax and Hamza chose that moment to step aggressively in Mr. Sakarri’s direction, and though they definitely entered Mr. Sakarri’s personal space; Sandar Sakarri seemed to take zero notice of their implied threat.  Instead, Sandar opened his eyes even wider and continued shouting directly into Jax’ face, “I don’t know why I expected big boy behavior from a couple College children?”

Unbeknownst to Mr. Sakarri, Kali was standing just outside on the balcony listening as Sandar scathingly reprimanded both Jax and Hamza.  When she had heard quite enough, Kali stepped quietly into the room and leveled an accusing eye on Mr. Sakarri.

“I was wondering Mr. Sakarri,” Kali said in her most charming tone, “you were sitting directly behind me, were you not?  And not more than a single row further back than Hamza in fact.  Am I right?”  “Hum,” Kali said as she cradled her chin with thumb and forefinger, “was there some reason why you didn’t jump to your feet and begin the shout-down?”  “You know,” Kali smiled wickedly, “you shouting in protest and you getting everyone worked-up; as in, you getting involved?  I mean, hey!” she said half turning her back on Mr. Sakarri, “By today’s example alone, you are more than capable and obviously loud enough and obnoxious enough to have alerted the entire auditorium.  And that, all by your little one-some!  What was holding you back, might I ask, Mr. Sakarri?  Hum?” Kali oozed sarcasm and disdain.

Sandar blanched with irritation before quickly altering his approach, clearing his throat and calming his voice.  It was also obvious as he adjusted his clothes that he was preparing to sternly address Kali, “Well, young lady, it isn’t my job to shout up the team or shout down the Guest Speakers.  No! It is my job to train you and your young friends here to handle these types of situations and protests on your own.  Like it or not, we are all in this world together and we need to bring an end to these Takers and religious fanatics and their lack of willingness to play well with others.  More than that, we need to succeed in our goals before it’s too late.  I guess…” Sandar paused, “I guess I got a little too carried away over the failure of last night’s meeting.” Sandar once again cleared his throat and then wiped his chin with his handkerchief, “I um… I let my emotions get the better of me today, my apologies.”

“So you say, and I quote, “It isn’t my job to shout up the team…” Then why are you shouting up Hamza and Jax?” Kali put her hands on her hips and leaned back into her stance.

AS he was not sure how to respond, Mr. Sakarri stood glaring at Kali as if he were expecting some additional reaction.

Following a prolonged pause, Kali merely rolled her eyes, harrumphed and returned to her former position on the balcony.

Mr. Sandar Sakarri quickly returned his attention to his lesser openents Jax and Hamza, “Hey guys, my apologies.  Let’s just cool our jets and discuss the upcoming debates, yeah?”

Friday, October 20th, 2017, 5:20 a.m., two days after the Chicago Incident,

American Airlines flight #347, Chicago to Tucson, was still 40 minutes out of Tucson International when TS roused from a broken sleep.  As TS was waking he noticed Mike in the next seat and said, “Hey Professor, still at it?”

“Hey Sleeping Ugly, I can see from hear your beauty sleep hasn’t done you ANY good.”

“Well, thanks a lot, Mikey.  Clearly, a lifetime of sleep hasn’t helped your ugly mug either, Mutton-Head?”  TS pulled himself up straighter in his seat and adjusted the seat-belt.

“And yes, Bubba, I’m still at it; as you have seen.”

Dr. Maylers, Professor of Science, UofA, Tucson Arizona had been for three hours grading Mid-Terms for his 700 plus students.

Mike stretched, yawned into his hand and then began putting his Laptop and grading accoutrements in the overhead compartment. “First chance I’ve had to ask, buddy.  How’d you like the event?  Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Well, I thought Dean Miles was going apoplectic when you abruptly dropped the presentation in his lap?  His face turned three shades of purple.  That was fun after a fashion.”

“Yeah,” Mike chuckled, “I saw that young man in the crowd who was just itching to start something, so when I saw him getting up, I thought it best to punt the ball behind Dag’s goal-line.  Get him to carry the ball past the 20.  That kid sure wanted to start something.”

TS yawned and laughed while saying, “Actually, that Prof handled it rather quickly, I thought.”

Mike got tickled thinking about the event, “Boy oh boy, I couldn’t have asked for a better Touchdown from Dags; it’s as if he were following an outline directly from my notebook.  I couldn’t believe it when he said, ‘Duh …you haven’t really presented much – just yet – Dr. Maylers.’” Mike imitated Dr. Miles’ phrase with a rather dumbed down and slow impersonation of the Chicago Professor.

“He didn’t sound like that, Mike.”

“He might as well have, Bubba.”

TS responded dryly, “Mike, the only way things could have gone as they did in Chicago… is if the Lord was in the middle of it all.”

“Whatta ya mean?” Mike said with a pseudo puzzled look on his face.

“Come on Mike, the way you and John and Bill kept passing off your presentations time and again and at just the exact moment when the protesters would jump to their feet…” TS simulated the protesters springing to their feet by throwing his hands up and spreading them in the air.  “It was God’s perfect timing which had taken over.  It was too perfect.”

“Good timing is all, TS”

“It was uncanny, Mike; or couldn’t you see that?”  TS looked accusingly over the edge of his glasses as Mike.

“Man, you can’t tell me you had it planned so perfectly, Michael.  You can’t get a rainbow out of that bag of Skittles.  It’s just not there.”

“Okay TS.  You’ve got a point.  But, you have to admit, you give God credit for just about everything.  Come on yourself.  You know it’s true, TS.”

“Too true, the good and the bad if you haven’t noticed.” TS said this as he raised his hand to high-five Mike.  “Give me five, Doofus.”

Michael knew better than to argue with TS over such matters, deferring to TS’ Pit-bull approach to giving God the glory.  Michael believed in an Intelligent Designer for life and the universe but he wasn’t totally committed to the idea that GOD got involved in the minutia of human lives. Michael knew TS was intractable about such issues and just left him to his own opinions and positions.  Still, Michael couldn’t just accept such an idea of giving God all the credit all the time.  The whole idea just went against his personal sense of achievement and receiving credit for his hard earned brilliance or dogged persistence or erudite disposition which often were the qualities which won him the day in those things he most admired and wanted out of life.

“Hey, you remember last year when we were trapped in Stratton and I said God would get us out of that terminal passage?” TS grabbed and shook Mikes forearm causing Mike to look him in the face.

Mike squenched up his face, “Yeah, how could I forget?”

TS got one of those see I told you so looks on his face, “You can’t believe that little quake was a co-inky-dink do you?”

“I don’t think you can say it was God either, TS” Mike was feeling defiant.

“Okay, Doubting Thomas.” TS said smiling.

“Well, we’re home, Dr. Maylers.” TS said yawning, “Thank you Lord.”

“Hey, make sure you say hi to Irene for me, TS.”

“I Will Bubba.” TS said jokingly knowing Mike’s proclivity for the slang.

After disembarking, the two friends went their separate ways knowing they’d soon meet up again in the coming weeks.

 

(Watch for the continuing Saga!)