21 Two On a Pie

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Snow blanketed the campus as winter term began.  The next pieing was Marcus's choice.  It was in a lecture hall in the South Complex.  The professor’s name has long since been forgotten, his reputation, of course, was unimportant.  As I have stated before; the location of the exit doors in proximity to the getaway car was all that mattered when deciding which professor to humiliate in front of the class that he would be trying to teach for the remainder of the term.  None of the Chefs even cared what the subject was, just as long as we could make a “clean getaway.” 

This time I joined Marcus, or rather Thiamin joined Riboflavin, to “up the ante” and see how two Chefs would work together again as a team. 

Students were entering the auditorium.  Marcus and I entered along with them carrying a brown paper bag that contained the pieing gear.  We walked down the aisle to the front of the room and went through an inner exit door that led to a space before the outer exit door could be accessed.  It was like having our own dressing room.

"Okay Marcus, let's put on the outfits and unwrap the pies."

"What kind did you get?"

"One apple, one blueberry.  It's time to add a little flavor to our pieings."

"Blueberry…we'll ruin his suit", Marcus laughed.

"All's fair in pies and war." 

With that notion we peeked through the crack between the doors at the professor who was beginning the class.  The students settled into their seats as the professor cleared his throat.

            "Well, class.  I trust that you all enjoyed the holidays.  I, for one, must weigh at least ten more pounds."  

The professor chuckled.  The class let out a few half hearty laughs, accommodating the professor's unappreciated wit so that he would get to the point and they could find out what was in store for them this cold, bitter, snow laden term. 

"It's time now to not only begin a new term, but a new decade as well.  Let's see what the 1980's have in store for us.   Now then, if you'll all check this term's syllabus..."

Marcus and I were now in full Chef gear, as Riboflavin and Thiamin, with one hand on the door handle, about ready to make our entrance. 

"All right", I said, laying out the blocking;  "We'll sneak up behind him, you plant your pie on the left side of his face and I'll plant mine on the right.  Let's try to do it at the same time.  Then we'll  bolt out the doors on the other side of the room."

"What if there isn't another room like this over there?  What if we're trapped?" 

"Don't worry, Les has this room for class so he knows it well.  He'll be waiting outside the other door in the getaway car."

Riboflavin knew that I was just trying to reassure him.  After all, this was the third term that we'd been running into classrooms in chef outfits and masks, assaulting strangers with pies, and dashing like it was all some kind of joke.  Nothing serious had really happened yet, aside from the meeting with Butler, and no one knew what would happen next.  Meanwhile, the Department of Public Safety at M.S.U., one of the country's largest universities, were sifting through clues as reports of the pies flew in.  To the Chefs it was all in a day's pieing.

Marcus seemed to lighten up as he asked how much the pies cost.  I assured him proudly that they only cost a buck apiece from the discount sale rack at the A&P.

"We should bill the professor", Marcus spouted, getting into the spirit of the moment.

"I'd rather take it out of his hide", I sneered as I clutched the door handle and balanced my blueberry weapon.  "Remember, we'll sneak up behind him.  Let's go!"

We crept out from our hiding place and quietly approached the professor from behind.  I peeled off from Marcus to approach the unwary professor from the far side of his face.  The class of approximately two hundred watched in silence.  The professor continued with his banal presentation.

"And so you see that the final will be on the last day of the term...”

Just then two pies were placed in his face from each side before we made a mad dash toward the door.

"Viva Les Chefs!" I turned and yelled before our exit.  Carbohydrate was where I had expected, waiting behind the wheel of his Fury as we piled into the car and sped away. 

The Professor took it all in stride. Wiping the blueberry pie from his face and tasting it he turned to the class saying,  "I prefer the apple." 

The level of energy was always a rush after a pie toss, and this was no exception.  Blueberry and Apple pies.  Two Chefs.   We had become unstoppable.              The Chefs had established a reputation and the pieing had begun again, welcoming in a new decade.

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