Stork Raving Mad Read Online Free PDF

opportunity.
    Dr. Michael himself appeared at my side.
    “You wanted me?” he said. “Time to head for the hospital?”
    “Not yet,” I said. “Though if Dr. Wright and Dr. Blanco continue to annoy me, you may need to take them.”
    “Annoy you? Wright and Blanco? How?”
    “They say I can’t do my dissertation on Señor Mendoza, and the play is canceled,” Ramon said.
    Michael’s reaction was lost in a sudden outburst of exclamations and oaths in two languages from the crowd of students.
    “Down with the English department!”
    “Those jerks!”
    “Censorship! Censorship!”
    “Discrimination!”
    I wasn’t up to deciphering what was being said in Spanish, but I assumed the gist was about the same.
    “Professor, can they do that?” one student asked.
    “
Qué pasó?
” Señor Mendoza ask. “
Qué pasó?
”
    Three of the students began explaining to him, simultaneously, in rapid-fire Spanish. At first he looked confused, then he seemed to catch on.
    “Villains!” he shouted. “Infamy! Let me accost them!”
    I was bracing myself to intervene—to leap out of my chair, or at least yell at him to stop. But I realized he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. He began speaking loudly and rapidly inSpanish. The students gathered around him, but considering his vehement tone, they were strangely subdued, as if struggling to understand him.
    “What’s he saying?” I whispered to Michael.
    “No idea,” Michael whispered back. “When he gets excited, he lapses into Catalan. Which none of us speaks.”
    Probably just as well, since from watching him I deduced that he was trying to incite the students to do something. From the expressions on their faces, I suspected the students were just as far out at sea as I was, but apparently they all assumed everyone else understood every word and had begun applauding and cheering diligently.
    “Then how do you know it’s Catalan?” I whispered to Michael.
    “He apologized the first time he lapsed into it.”
    Señor Mendoza began shouting things that ended with either
Sí?
or
No!
The students could take a hint. They began roaring back “
Sí!
” or “
No!
” whenever Señor Mendoza paused for a response.
    Michael beckoned me into the pantry, where it was a little quieter.
    “So just exactly what did they say—Blanco and Wright?”
    “Wright said Ramon’s dissertation topic was unsuitable because it was Spanish,” I said. “Caerphilly is an English-language institution. And Blanco said the play was unsuitable and offensive, and it’s off, too. Who is he, anyway?”
    “One of the president’s pet bureaucrats,” Michael said. “Has his finger in everything. Spends all his time on projects noone either understands or wants. Big on introducing new paperwork—he’s killed more trees than all the arsonists in California ever will. Sticks his nose in everything from academic standards to the portion sizes in the cafeteria. Currently about the least popular man on campus because his department hasn’t been able to get the heating plant problem solved. And Wright, of course—”
    “Is a member of your committee,” I said.
    “A problem member.” He sighed. “Not to mention a serious contender for the position of English department chair the next time that becomes vacant. But we have to deal with her. Let’s go see if we can straighten this out.”
    Was he really as confident as he sounded? I followed him back into the kitchen.
    Apparently, news of the prunes’ actions had spread throughout the house. Every student living with us and quite a few I didn’t remember ever seeing before had crowded into the kitchen. The room was boiling with heated discussions in at least two languages. Señor Mendoza was still holding forth in a surprisingly loud bellow.
    “You have no idea what he’s going on about?” I asked.
    “Something about marching and picketing in protest, I think,” Michael said.
    “I got that much.”
    I followed Michael into the