Nov. 18, 1957

Dear Thom,

I'm sorry about my dilatory corresponding, but I have been going around in circles for the past --
well since I wrote you last.  I haven't written a letter in weeks.  I assembled all the letters I have
received and not answered and picked the one with the earliest postmark.  It was yours.  Lucky
fellow.

So I am sitting here now at my desk listening to a very inspiring song entitled "Peggy Sue" I believe. Those are the only two words I can understand anyway.  I have decided to drop the
Rock & Roll controversy.  It's not worth arguing about.

The mid-terms had me going for a while, but they're all through now.

The hall council decided to investigate my books, and they discovered that no one could read them except me.  Accusations were leveled.  Counter accusations followed.  Tempers flared (especially mine).  The rector exploded, I was taken down several pegs and was thoroughly pissed-off.  Things finally cooled off  and  then the hall auditor, the hall treasurer and I got together and devised a new accounting system.  Actually the one I had was sufficient as they agreed after I explained it to them, but they felt that anyone should be able to read it.  Now all is peaceful until the next time.

I spent one of the worst nights in my life several weeks ago.  It all started at 5:00 P.M. that
afternoon.  I was cleaning out the fish tank when I heard a noise in the corner of the room by the radiator.  I turned my head in that direction and what do I see but a small rodent (i.e., a mouse) running towards me with its head down so it couldn't see me.  I immediately demanded what the hell he meant by coming in without knocking, in response to my query he did a rapid about face and sped for the radiator.  Throwing caution to the wind, I pursued him with intent to kill.  Alas, he had vanished.  I located his hole, but, thinking that I had left an indelible impression of fear on generations of yet unborn mice, I did not think he would return. 

That night I returned to the room after the lights had gone out and lit a candle.  I immediately sensed something was wrong.  I felt I was not alone.  There was no one under my bed much to my relief and no one in it either much to my dismay (occasionally I have my horny moments).

I undressed, put my P.J.s on, brushed my teeth, blew out the candle, climbed into bed.

all was quiet, too quiet.  I swear i could feel that mouse in the very atmosphere of the room.  I waited, then I heard him.  Scra-a-a-ach, Scra-a-a-ach, Scre-e-e-ech.

It was a truly horrible sound, I assure you.

I waited until I heard him in the corner of the room opposite the radiator.  When I felt I could beat him to his hole, I grabbed my pen light, leaped out of bed and dashed for the radiator.  I won by several lengths.  He retreated to a neutral corner.  I stuffed his hole with Kleenex and Duco cement (a fiendish, gooy cement).

I then went next door and enlisted the help of 3 stalwart hunters.  It was 11:20 P.M. when we returned to my room

We piled all the movable furniture on my bed or out in the corridor and then began our not -too-systemic search.

The mouse was discovered, chased, lost, discovered, chased, lost, discovered, etc.

At 12:22 one of my confederates wounded him with a saber-thrust of my U.S. navy surplus sheath knife.  He (he being the mouse limped away roaring in pain.  We followed the pools of blood across the room and found him lying on his side under my bed.  As we closed in, he reared upon his hind legs and screamed his defiance, but from the way he was coughing up blood we knew he was through.  We rushed him from all sides and two spear trusts later it was all over.  His guts littered the floor.

The actual slayer and his exuberant roommate picked the valiant warrior up by his tail and ran off to show him to the world at 12:30 in the morning.  From the howls and screams emitting from the various rooms far down the corridor, I knew they were being warmly received wherever they appeared with their prize.