Dressing For Sedition – Bowtie Optional

He had a bevy of bowties. Such pretension. But as Head of the English department, bowties were mandatory. When he threatened to cut my creative writing classes, I had the urge to strangle him, with a bowtie, his navy one with the white polka dots. He said I was redundant. My classes were redundant. I asked him to meet me in the quad after his last meeting.“Whatever for?”“I have something to show you.”At 8:30, he turned up in his matching blazer and bowtie. He didn’t see me sitting on a bench in the night’s darkness.A figure stepped from the shadows with a heavy thud of his boots. Mouth red-rimmed and making mewling sounds like an underfed cat. A second shape rattled a tree bringing down leaves, twigs, branches and more detritus. Again, a bloody stain on the lower half of his face and a long moan. Frayed sneakers clomped the ground. Like Frankenstein’s least graceful brother. Then a filthy ragged woman shrieked at him. Finger pointed at his chest. Maroon splatters hit the grass with each step.They began to mewl, moan, and shriek in tandem. Words formed in the late October gloom. “Redundant, unnecessary, redundant, unneeded, redundant.” A dog’s growl grew louder until I could see the bloodied snout pulled back from wetly pointed choppers.The Head shivered and shook. Looking back, he saw himself surrounded by a course-sized group of ghouls. “Who are you people?”“We are the Zombies of Creative Writing Future,” said a large shape splotched in body fluids next to the snarling dog.“What do you want from me?”“We have no place to go. Give us back our courses.” The zombies lurched nearer. Pressed in on the man, they smelled of late adolescent angst and pot.“I’m going to call campus security,” said the Department Head holding up his phone. The undead dog lunged knocking it out of his hand.One zombie audibly licked his lips. Another smacked her mouth. A rumble began in the quad gathering into a low echo of agitation. They backed the Department Head against a tree. The largest male zombie grabbed his arm. A toad-like tongue protruding from between darkened lips. “Redundant,” he said before licking the Head’s hand, wrist to fingertips, with gusto.“Okay, okay. I’ll reinstate the classes tomorrow. Now will you let me go?”With a death’s-head smile, the lead zombie sneered then shuffled off. The Head of the English Department ran for his car. His bowtie flapped in time with his blazer. With a squeal of rubber, he sped away.The woman turned to me. “Professor Wallace, was that okay?”I checked my recording.“Great job you ghouls. Got it all. Time for beer. First rounds on me.” I stomped the Department Head’s phone into the wet sod.The man picked up the dog’s leash. “Sophie, heel. Meet you at the bar. Got to get the dog back to the kiddies. Who’s carrying the face wipes?”Everyone laughed. This is what happens when you give the writing prompt, ‘bowties.’

Source: Dressing For Sedition – Bowtie Optional


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