Authors' Note: We're back! Run in terror if you can speak passable (or better) Spanish, because this post is going to make you twitch. :) Ish would like to apologize to and thank Eowyn's husband, her parents and several Spanish teachers who made this semi-premeditated and cold-blooded murder of the Spanish tongue possible. And this time, we can blame the crack on malt, not trifle.
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I wasn't the crying type. Not at funerals, not at weddings, not even when Call of Duty sold out before I could even get in the door. But I was coming pretty damn close today.
"A C+?" I blurted out.
"Bear in mind," the teacher announced while the rest of my classmates sniggered, "that this reflects your cumulative work up to the final. If you are satisfied with my eternal wisdom, bow down and I'll see the worthy next semester. If not, please visit my office to schedule an appointment to either dispute or retrieve a final review sheet."
Before I could speak again, he added, "And bear in mind that disputing it will likely drop your grade for your impudence."
It was like the bastard read my mind.
"Ah, Mr. Spielberg..."
"Fassbinder," I corrected.
He gave me a significant look and snapped his briefcase shut. "I have six hours available. I suppose you'll be wasting all of them."
If I wanted to pull a B- out of this, I was going to have to shut up and play submissive student. There was about an ice cube's chance in Texas of that happening, but he had no case.
"Come with me," he said with mock resignation.
He took a seat in his office chair like a judge taking the bench and took his own good time looking for something-a Bic, it turned out-before looking up.
"You may make your opening statement," he said mildly.
I opened my mouth to say something brilliant, but practically bawled, "A C+?"
"A C+," he confirmed.
"I don't believe in C+. Not unless it's followed by another +."
"Clever," he commented. "But a C+ you have earned."
"Look up my papers," I ordered. "IIRC..."
"IIRC?"
For a compsci prof, he knew nothing about netspeak. "If I recall correctly," I corrected, "my papers have never been graded below a 96. Read the grades!"
"Read the syllabus."
"I did!"
It was true, I'd used it to check how often I could ditch without flunking the attendance part and which lectures would involve a lot of overheads and therefore nap times.
"Did you ever get to the grading breakdown?"
"I know that those papers..."
"Are the only reason you are not getting a D," he interrupted. "Here, let me put it in a powerpoint."
I tried to protest, but he held up a hand and then went back to typing. Then he turned his monitor against me and I saw more graphics than he'd used all semester to enhance a single sentence fragment.
"Class participation: 20%."
Oh.
Oh god.
Oh dear god.
But.
Oh.
"I participate," I said faintly.
"Announcing alien invasions doesn't count."
"But..."
"Or correcting my code."
"And..."
"Or hitting on the TA."
"I didn't..." I stopped short. "There was a TA?"
"Yes," he said, smirking. "She was the one asking why you never came on Thursdays."
Telling him that she'd have been much more successful if she didn't sound like a hooker wouldn't help.
"Still not convinced there was a TA. You sure she's..."
"Cami."
"Cami?"Out of sheer instinct, I resorted to sign language.
He glowered even harder. "She is a graduate student in applied mathematics." He imitated my hourglass gesture. "Yes."
"Cami," I repeated blankly. "I thought she was hitting on me."
"No, she was doing her job."
He smirked quite a bit more and then turned his monitor back. He did enough typing to book me a flight to Ghana and then looked up.
"Is that all?"
"I don't know," I challenged, grasping at straws. "Is it?"
He sighed and checked his watch. I could practically hear the other dissed students banging on the door. "Look, Mr. Fassbinder," he sighed. "I'll be merciful on the following conditions. First, you don't expect anything higher than a B."
"B keeps me from a straitjacket over Christmas," I pointed out. "Or being sent to Kaplan for a refresher course."
"Second," he continued, unmoved. "The next time you enter my presence, it will be at my request, not because of registration."
Being banned from having to be terminally bored? I could live with that.
"Done," I said. "
"And third..."
*****
"You. Ditched. Me."
"Come on, my little co-dependent friend," I soothed. "You can walk across campus unmolested."
"Forget molesting," Sharsky protested. "Me, you, a gallon of Dew a piece. Any of this ringing a bell?"
"I was only ten minutes late."
"Talk to the hand."
"Don't be like that." It was like dealing with Nancy. "Come on. I'll buy you an extra twenty-ounce as a peace offering."
"Can't buy me love."
I would have continued this fascinating conversation, but Leo suddenly snarled "Sacachupanga!" and sunk into a sulk. Even for him, that was weird.
"Um?" I said intelligently.
"Hijo de..."
"Watch it," I warned. I knew enough Spanglish to know the good cusses and he wasn't getting away with that one. "Use your words."
"Buzz," he growled.
That was enough to bring any conversation to a close, but Sharsky blocked my way as I headed for my comp. "Okay," he said. "WHY were you ten minutes late?"
"Langstraad tried to give me a C+."
This time, Leo got out the whole cuss and I didn't stop him. He was one.
"I hope you were detained for assault and battery."
"Hell no, man," I drawled. "It's all cool."
"C+ ain't cool, mijo," Leo said sternly.
"Hell to the no. I got it up to a B in five minutes flat."
"Niiiiiiiiice," Sharsky said appreciately.
"I stood up to the man and told him no way were my mad skills getting a C+ for knowing more in third grade than he'd learned in grad school."
"QED," Leo sniggered.
"And I told him he was way off-base."
"Booyah," Sharsky encouraged.
"And then he made me agree to file papers for the rest of the semester."
"Oh."
"Oh."
There was an uncomfortable silence. Thwarting the man was kinda canceled out by being someone's executive assistant.
"But a B," Sharsky said. "Way to kick ass."
"Damn right," I agreed. "I fought the law and the law compromised."
Leo made a whipping noise, then beckoned me closer. "Buzz," he repeated. "You gotta check this crack."
I'd usually needed a few readthroughs to assimilate everything I read, but this was the first time I'd blinked, squinted, scratched my head and searched for babelfish.
UNIVERSIDAD DE CHICAS EN FUEGO
Pues, me di cuenta hoy que hay tantas muchachas calientes en este campo. ¡Hay tantos guapas que debemos llamar la escuela La Universidad De Chicas En Fuego! En el edificio del nino solamente, hay cincuenta y cinco chicas en fuego. No te molesta, BeeFF, el nino no esta buscando a las otras chicas.
El edificio del nino tiene tantos chicas en fuego que necesito preguntar: ¿Hay un conspiracion? ¿Un combinacion de secretos? ¿Y porque? ¿Son los enemigos tratando mandar una otra Travezura a cazar el nino? ¿Y quien es la Travezura? ¿Cami Rawlins? ¿Puede el guardian de corps besa ella en esta vez? ¿Que piensen ustedes?
Comments:
BikerChick: Did you seriously just say there are 55 girls in heat in the boy's dorm?
Ladiesman217: (to Incidental Sidekick) He's mocking you...isn't he.
BringTheRain: English, dude! English!
Survivor: Spanglish, man, Spanglish!
IncidentalSidekick: You ain't getting nothing from me for Kwanzaa.
Camaro76: Dios mio! Que caliente las ninas!
IncidentalSidekick: Dios mio! Do you wanna end up squashed into a tin can, paizano?
BeeFF: Play nice, boys. Keep it up and ain't none of you getting nothing for Kwanzaa.
IncidentalSidekick: You're sexy when you're ghetto.
Survivor: *Smack*
Ladiesman217: Beat me to it.
S&M: QED.
NurseRatched: Camaro76, as an expert on the matter, you talk Spanish like a confused 9th grader.
Camaro76: Thanks!
S&M: Exactly how many confused 9th graders do you know NurseRatched?
IncidentalSidekick: ROFL!
NotTheToothFairy: QED.
Survivor: Now you've got HIM saying it!
BrassEagle (mod): The next person who uses that abbreviation gets to also explain the full origin and history. Or, alternatively, spend the night in the brig.
BeeFF: We're not military. And "Q.E.D. is an initialism of the Latin phrase quod erat demonstrandum, which means "what was to be demonstrated". The phrase is traditionally placed in its abbreviated form at the end of a mathematical proof or philosophical argument when what was specified in the enunciation — and in the setting-out — has been exactly restated as the conclusion of the abbreviation thus signals the completion of the proof." Need I go on?
IncidentalSidekick: Cheater. Wikipedia doesn't count.
BrassEagle: You're fearless. Why don't you work for me?
BeeFF: I get more in tips than the government would pay me.
BringTheRain: Quod-Indefinite nominative singular neuter pronoun meaning "which". Erat-third person singular perfect form of "to be". Demonstratandum-neuter gerundive from the first conjugation verb demonstrare.
LadiesMan217: ...wow. I just have no words for that.
BringTheRain: *shrug* All the hot chicks took Latin in my town.
Survivor: What are they, Catholic?
IncidentalSidekick: Catholic Schoolgirls! Where?
LadiesMan217: You can take the boy out of the Valley...
Camaro76: ESEEEEEEEEEE!
IncidentalSidekick: SHADDUP!
Ladiesman217: Yo quiero Taco Bell.
IncidentalSidekick: Voy a poner mi pie en su a**.
NurseRatched: (a todos) Debes echarse a practicar mas. Tu Spanglish es peor que un perro en fuego.
Survivor: Wait, what was that? I only took two years of Spanish in high school that I've tried to block from my mind. I don't even go to Taco Bell now.
LadiesMan217: Don't look at me, I took German.
BringTheRain: When was the last time you were within a thousand miles of a Taco Bell?
Spitfire: Christmas '07.
BeeFF: You keep track of these things?
Survivor: She does layovers just to hit up Subway.
Spitfire: I think he said, "You should H yourself to practice more. Your Spanglish is worse than a dog on fire." Or is that a dog in heat?
NurseRatched: Either way works.
NO EFFIN' WAY! Cami Rawlins? The code goddess owned by Langstrand? "Dude..." I weakly muttered.
"I know," Leo growled. "They're totally dissing Incidental Sidekick!"
"NO! Cami..."
Sharsky stared at me. "You know her?"
"She's the TA in my Comp Sci class!"
"You had a TA?"
"No! I mean, yes, but that ISN'T the point," I practically screamed. Neither of them were understanding.
They both looked at me in confusion. I heaved a great sigh. "Camaro76 mentions Cami Rawlins. We already knew that the blogger and his groupies had a connection to campus, but this proves, they're peeps we might know!"
Leo blinked, "Dude, don't ever use the word 'peeps' again."
"Wonder who else he's scoping," Sharsky interrupted.
"EXACTLY!"
"That's it," Sharsky said decisively. "You're on lapel cam duty until finals week. Get in good with Cami. Frigging ask her for tutoring if you have to!"
"It's extreme," Leo agreed, "but it's a risk we'll have to take."
"Be careful though," Sharsky's face was a mask of concern, "They might already have usscoped out."
"Ew." I grimaced. "He can have the boy."
"Act natural," he hissed. "They might be watching for a change in routine."
"Decoys, man," I suggested. "You hit on anything that breathes. I can check the surroundings as a wingman."
"What about Alienboy?" Leo asked.
It'd been us, not him, for so long I'd practically forgotten Sam. "Any idea, when he'll make an entrance?"
Sharsky waved away my question. "Isn't he rubbing shoulders with Romulans?"
"Something like that," Leo snorted. "If they let him off DS-9 before reading days, we'll read him in."
"If," I muttered darkly, "he hasn't already been 'read in' by the MAN."
Leo just rolled his eyes, but Sharsky met my mine and nodded solemnly.
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Authors' Endnote: Here is the blog post in English, courtesy of Google Translate (and the word "Travezura" means "trickster" = "Pretender"):
UNIVERSITY OF GIRLS IN FIRE
Well, today I realized there are so many hot girls in this are so many beautiful we should call the school The University Girls On Fire! The building of the child only, there are fifty-five girls on fire. You do not mind, BeeFF, the child is not looking for other girls.
The building of the child has so many girls on fire I need to ask: Is there a conspiracy? A combination of secrets? And why? Are the enemies trying to send a one hunting Travezura the child? And who is the Travezura? Rawlins ¿Cami? Can bodyguards kiss her this time? What do you think?
Yesterday, 10:10pm