Oh, Yeah, I Almost Forgot...

On Friday, as the day was winding down, one of our seniors, I'll call her Anastasia because that's about as far from her real name as I can get at this time of the morning, came into my office with a young lady bedecked in baggy black garments, with numerous piercings and carrying a skateboard. "This is Penelope," quoth Anastasia to me as if this explained much. Alas, it did not. My blank look of befuddlement encouraged my young visitor to elucidate. "She is the president of the Pride club here on campus." Ah, methought, the plot thickens. I had been of some assistance to the Gay/Lesbian/Bi-Sexual/Transgendered club in the past, and expected to be asked to assist with the preparations for an extravaganza of some sort. "A pleasure," quoth I, "and how may I be of use to you ladies this fine day?" They then spun for me a tale of woe from the years prior. A tale of a faculty sponsor who, though enabling the club existence by affixing their name to the appropriate document, did little else, and was now departing the employ of our learned establishment, and thus was about to do even less. Would I, they implored, assume the mantle of sponsor, and by such assumption grant life to this most worthy endeavor?

"Uhhhhhh, sure." Said I.

So forms were signed, and thanks were bestowed upon me, e'en more so when I promised that I would not be the silent, invisible sponsor. This is untrod territory for your humble correspondent, and the abdominal lepidoptera flutter mercilessly when I consider the task ahead, but I am deeply honored to be asked to serve in this way, and shall endeavor to do my best.

See ya,
Marius