CommonSense Inc., Short Story Series #1 - The Flair Witch Project

 CommonSense #1: The Flair Witch Project

Copyright 2011 © DesktopEpics Entertainment

Copyright 2011 © Corey A. Burkes

Started: 12/21/2011 3:00 AM

Ended: 12/27/2011 11:59 PM

Beginning …

Dean Konner had a brow like a dog would have fur. Not necessarily one of those ‘uni-brows’, but something in-between a forehead beard and a proceeding hairline. He was the joke of the campus. A classic one-liner was the one about how Dean Konner’s brow would come around the corner first before his body.

An early hair-lert system.

That was enough to make Greg Mitchell chuckle to himself at the worst possible time—at the worst possible place—with the worst possible people.

Dean Konner stopped his rambling—80% of which Greg will not be able to recall anyway—to look at the dirty, filthy college student seated in his office, messing up his leather seating with his disgusting crud. In addition to those personal feelings he had for Greg and most all other students at Milanda University, he also took offense to the actual dirt Greg was covered in from head to toe. He and his companion, Tabitha Banner seated to Greg’s immediate grime—he meant to Greg’s immediate right—were both in the most serious amount of trouble.

Regardless of their need to take a shower … badly.

The dean cleared his throat in his classic disapproving way and continued to read the list of charges to the offenders. “Continuing—$30,000 worth of high-definition video equipment, $62,000 in damaged and missing campus vehicles. $22,934 of recording equipment. An unpaid $6,000 hotel bill with $5000 of which of room damage, a citation billed to the University for illegal parking and various town hijinks unbecoming of a college student and last, but not least, out of a total of six students venturing on a weekend, university-approved excursion to Pennsylvania and conduct a university funded documentary on ancient witchcraft and unsanctioned religious arts of the 15th century, only two students have returned with no rhyme or reason as to where the other four are.”

The dean sat back, winded; exhausted by the sheer absurdness of it all, glaring silently at the two in front of his desk. In return, the two stared at him blankly with cakes of mud, dry leaves and grit in their hair and faces.

Thus the stare down began. Neither side of the table speaking, allowing the mahogany and brass scaled replica of Big Ben tick and tock during this awkward standoff.

It would always be Greg who had something to say at times like this. “Well, Dean … sir … Did you get a chance to read the police rep—“

“Will you shut the hell up!” Tabitha snapped to life; out of her sullen empty gaze to pierce Greg with a look of death; holding the look until he got the point without any further statement.

“Okay,” he said sheepishly.

And she wasn’t even giving him any. Never intended to. Never will.

Konner took in this brief domineering moment and decided that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with the boy who was clearly whipped. Nor with the girl, whom with all of her girl-next-door looks and literally dirty-blonde hair with twigs sticking out apparently was the brains of this operation. Konner can understand civil disobedience; he marched with great men and threw a Molotov cocktail or two in his heyday at police in riot gear. Unfortunately this was something else if they intended to play silent to the establishment when he, indeed, glanced through the thirty-page police report and stopped when he saw the words blood and dismemberment.

Obviously a class trip gone awry.

Taking off his glasses, Dean Konner rubbed his eyes and stretched his neck, feeling it crack in the very unusually silent office. In fact, he just barely cricked and cracked his neck in time with the clocks endless tick and tock.

The time was almost five minutes to six. It was time to wrap this up.

“Any further explanation? Any appeal? Either of you? No? Then you both are suspended pending the likely criminal charges that will befall you both.”

“What?!?” Tabitha stood up. She left a neat butt print of mud left on the fine leather she sat in. Konner jotted that down on their offenses as well. “After all we’ve been through? That’s not fair!”