A few weeks later, sometime before Thanksgiving, Benny and I were walking together on his way to class. I was going to the theater building to help June hang the banners for 'Othello's opening night. We made our way past the campus' Robinson Hall when we stopped dead on the lawn and stared up at the ancient brick towers in horror.
Instead of the Gothic windows and sloping roofs spanning the crest of the building, a gigantic white sign covered the entire top of the Hall.
A fairly decent hand-drawn computer extended the length of the poster. In crimson paint, hastily sprayed, the screen read:
Reagan is NOT the solution to our problem. Reagan IS the problem!
"Oh, my God…" Benny whispered.
"Well!" I laughed. "Whoever did this was NOT a member of the Brown administration! They're all so fucking conservative. I'm surprised they haven't set the thing on fire yet! I wonder how long it's been up there?"
"That paint looks fresh." Benny concluded. "It couldn't have been up there that long!"
"I wonder if they did it in the cover of darkness."
"Well obviously! It's not like the Dean just handed them a ladder and let 'em go at it!"
A large commotion erupted from the few trees to our left. A small group of people burst forth at a run, pounding like a frantic stampede straight at us. Benny and I looked at each other in horror, eyes wide, and then dove out of the way before the group trampled us to death. They ran past like a rag-tag assemblage of tribal chanters, squealing, yelling, whooping, and calling, "There are no loopholes in the tax code! Impeach Reagan! No loopholes! No tax cuts! Down! With! Reagan!"
A few runners at the back spotted us on the ground and changed their course. They bumbled over to us, stomping their shoes and sandals angrily. They bent down near our faces and jeered, "Are YOU Republican?"
They didn't look dangerous or armed. Just stoned and highly political.
I couldn't contain my laughter and amusement. I snorted, "Well, I think he might be!" and pointed to Benny on the ground beside me.
Benny yelped and slapped my hand away. "What? Mark! No! You little snitch, I'm not Republican!" He looked at the activists seething above him. "Really, I swear to you I'm not!"
"Whoo did yoou vote for?" They chanted eerily. They sounded like dead owls. I kept laughing.
"Honestly? I didn't vote at this election. That's the truth." I held up my hands.
"And what about yoou?"
"No, no, me neither! I was on vacation in Tahiti!"
They fell silent and I looked at Benny skeptically.
"Really?"
He pursed his lips and through clenched teeth hissed, "…Mark…"
"Calm down." I stood up and the protestors backed off a bit.
I held out my hand to help Benny up. "I really don't think these guys are gonna kill anyone..." I turned to the group and pointed up at the building behind us. "Did you guys hang this?"
They all grinned at the awed tone of my voice, and muttered cockily, "Yeah, yeah, that was us…" and "Yep, we hung it…"
"Neat!" I crooned. "How did you guys get it up there?" I took out my camera and began filming the scraggly hippies.
"Mark! Don't encourage them!" Benny hissed from beside me. I pushed his shiny head back with my palm and laughed. "Oh calm down Benny. I think this is cool. It's about time someone did something."
Several campaigners whooped in agreement and patted me on the back. "You wanna join us man? Reagan is not the solution! Impeach! Impeach! Down! With Reagan!" They broke into another hearty chant.
"Aw, Mark! Now look what you got them doing again!"
"I know! This'll make great footage for my final! And I'm sure Roger would love to get in on this!"
The first half of the group, who hadn't stopped to intimidate us, came jogging back to join the chant.
"Down! With! Reagan! Down With Reagan!"
They danced in a circle, elevating their volume, and admired their poster, until someone in the back hollered, "STOP!"
They all fell silent and turned to whoever had shouted.
The group parted down the middle so the speaker could step forward.
He was a rather burly black man, maybe five or six years my senior, with a skull cap screwed tightly to his head, clothed in a vest covered in patches, rips, buttons and slogans. He stomped his untied combat boot at me in a similar fashion as his comrades had earlier. I wondered if it was an attempt to terrorize me.
It didn't work. I stood my ground and filmed the procession. Benny whimpered and stepped back.
"Hey!" The man called. "Why are you filming? Is this for the administration? For the news? Because if it is then tell them I said-" He promptly dropped his pants and mooned the camera, flipping off the lens from between his legs. "-FUCK YOU!"
All his followers screamed with delight and some followed suit.
I kept filming. Disgusted, Benny covered his eyes and mumbled, "Ludicrous, all of you…"
The man pulled up his trousers and smiled. I lowered the camera so he could see my face and smiled back.
"Nope!" I piped. "No affiliation with Brown whatsoever. Or any college, company, or organization for that matter. I'm a mere film student. Oh, and for the record? I'm a Democrat."
"And he's fucking insane." Benny added under his breath.
"Ha!" The man clapped his hands together with glee. "Well then hello there non-affiliated Democratic fucking insane film student! I am Thomas B. Collins,"
He roared a hearty laugh that reminded me of the lion from 'The Wizard of Oz', and continued his speech.
"But I go by many different titles, among them: anti-archon, advocate of consensus reality, protestor, pothead, ho-mo-sexual, student of Stallman, thief, god, God with a capital 'G', liberator, crrrrazy bitch, entrepreneur, culinary art-eest, advocate, seven-time traffic violator, fag, teacher's aid, criminal, saint, commando, master of disguise, mistress of the dark," He took a breath. "…and my friends," He made a sweeping motion with his hand over his adoring fans, "call me Collins."
It all sounded very rehearsed, but I clapped in adoration nonetheless and bowed.
"Pleasure to meet you Thomas B. Collins! I'm…Mark Cohen. Do you mind…if I use this for my filmography final?"
"If that fabulous close-up of my hairy ass won't get you expelled, then you are granted my full permission. Actually, if it gets you expelled, that's even better." He grinned.
"Mark!" Benny bleated. "Why are we still here talking to these people? We've gotta go. Let's go."
Collins peered around my shoulder quizzically and looked comically back at his following. He shook his finger at Benny.
"Who is you?" He said mockingly, in a very ghetto tone.
"I am Benjamin Coffin III."
"Gasp. Say it isn't so!"
"Wh- you- you've heard of me?"
"No." Collins sneered. "But your last name is Coffin. And that's fucking hilarious. Mark Cohen film student? Is Coffin here a Republican?"
"I…cannot tell a lie."
"Mark you're a traitor."
"What? We're not going to kill you or anything…"
"Told ya Benny…"
"…We're just marking our targets when we bring in the snipers next month!"
"Ah!"
"Run along children!" Collins danced a little jig and shooed the protestors forth. They whooped and resumed running and bellowing. Benny shook his head and made his way to class.
Collins spun on his heel and turned to me, tipping off his little hat and bowing. He gyrated his hat in the air, and caught it atop his head, reached into his pocket and whipped out a business card, all in one swift motion. I watched, amazed, and took the card from his outstretched fingers.
"I am currently on an East Coast college tour. Meaning it's sweeps week. We're hitting every mildly right-leaning college and inflicting as much bloodless damage as we can to scare the institution out of its biased frenzy. We are the black bloodstain on the political spectrum, from Hanover to Marblehead!We are the news story you want, but you cannot have because we dodge the censors, amigo! Fear us! Rawr!" He giggled at his own silliness. "But my day job is philosophy teacher's aid at M.I.T. Soon to be promoted. Then," He whispered, "I can take them down from the inside out- starting in Massachusetts! Muuhahahahahaaa… Wow, Cambridge. Big whoop, yes? No? Are you mocking me? Listen artist- they mocked Picasso before he puked up Guernica. Yeah, anyway? If you can, make a copy of that semi-porno you've got of me and send it to this address, Attn: Prof. Collins, okay? I plan to use it as a training video for the children."
I nodded happily. "Sure!"
"You're fucking groovy, film kid. Groovy like a flag in the wind…Whoosh!" He giggled again and continued. "If you want compensation, you know, for the movie, then…uh, up yours commie! I don't believe in cash for shit that should be free. That film might be Oscar-worthy but I ain't payin', sorry! Love is free, sex is free, and so is exposure and exploitation." He twirled around and hugged my shoulders.
"See you around Cohen. Make magic. And...tell the Coffin to get laid."
With that he whooped a guttural yell and raced off toward his mob of friends.
I shook my head and laughed openly.
College was turning out ten times cooler than I'd ever anticipated.