“Daisy Swift here reporting from the event we all have been waiting for,”
opens a middle-aged reporter of uncultivated looks who in order to get her
message across the roar and cheer of the masses has to shout out loud: “ladies and gentlemen, authors, critics,
publishers, editors; dear readers… it is my absolute pleasure to welcome you
all here tonight at the 10th reunion of the 2015 class of the English-American
Studies.” The crowd explodes. A high-pitched cry of the female members of
the throng produces an unequivocal threat to the embellished heavy tables of
glass of the majestic windows of the Municipal House. During their regular days
imbued with perfect composer, the regular folk, who on day-to-day basis are
able to temper their avidity for the written word and for the craftsmen
responsible, cheered like a pack of exulted savages. On this precious day one
could simply not hold back; on this rarity of a marvelous occasion one
discarded all the novels about temperance he’s read and all the morality tales
about wisdom of the calm and just - let - go. This was too big to be approached
critically, with a subtlety of argument, or with an attentive heed and rather
refined delicacy of taste as was the custom all the other days… for this was no
ordinary day.
“And
here they arrive… I can see the first BMWs and Rolls Royce’s gliding smoothly
towards the red carpet… and this just came in: Tommy Curly Curl is not going to
attend for he has just gotten an idea to contemplate!... What depressing news
for the female portion of the audience! But the first limo has just stopped in
front of the House… the doors are opening... and a pile of books pours out from
within the open doors of the limo... dear readers I dare assert that there has
been some very hard reading going on inside that limo; it resembles an enormous
pitch black mouth vomiting cover after cover after cover... it is chaotic, it
is impressive, Tis’ terribly beautiful.” After the way got cleared for the
passenger to get out, as he was stepping out of the limo he had to mind every
step not to fall over the slippery covers of the latest gazelle-skinned
editions of the Romantics. “May the Muse
be rather splendid with you, doc. prof. PaeDr Fucd-Ur-MA. Dr. Tomáš Vidláček
Ph.D. CSc, AkA,” commenced Daisy with her insides throbbing with excitement
but her face emanating professionalism.
“And with you, my dear,” retorted
Vidláček playfully trying to avoid straight eye contact, his eyes still red.
“I can see there has been some very hard
reading going on in that sinful limo of yours…” utters Daisy rather
coquettishly.
“My
dearest Daisy,” a line of women of blazing beauty starts to crawl out of
the limo, they all have red eyes, “I
could endeavor to fool your lovely intellect which is so pronounced tonight by
that craftily poor looks of yours… if I could only say the same about my companions,”
and sheds a disappointed look at the pack of despicably pretty women, balancing
on their high heels, and throwing the books back into the limo. Daisy couldn’t
prevent a tiny dot of blush stealing the pallidness of her lovely countenance.
Vidláček resumed, the level of his self-assuredness rising even higher above
any conceivable surface, “but I would have
rather better chance at pleasing The
Critic.” Throwing his hands up high in a manner of a shameful confession,
he continued: “I have done some very
hard reading, I own up, but tell me, dear Daisy, and You, dear readers,”
the crowd explodes once again in a wave of raucous chanting and endeavors to
get a glimpse of Vidláček, “I beseech Thee, tell me isn’t this the day to
celebrate?!” he orates, his voice being enhanced by the omnipresent
loudspeakers: “Isn’t this glorious day,
the 10th reunion of the 2015 AA class,” he throws a pack of bank notes and
autographed books at the crowd every time he says the word ‘day’, ”isn’t this the day to drive in a limo and
read Ulysses in 7 different languages with 7 of the
world’s finest Eng Lit Ph.D. graduates from all over the world of the most
divine curves; moreover be translating The Finnegan’s Wake into
musical notes, AND be working on my
latest book The Comprehensive
History of the Irish Genius at the
same time?!” cries ecstatic Vidláček. The crowd goes even crazier.
“That’s
some hard-core stuff!” admits Daisy with a face filled with honest
admiration. Vidláček throws another pile of signed books filled with banknotes
of ridiculously high worth at the crowd, assumes the central position among his
entourage and strides forth towards the House in a firm possession of himself
and of the situation and even as if in a possession of the House itself. The
scene rather resembled a victorious king returning to his home castle among the
hooraying and clapping congregate of legions of devotedly critical readers; a
monument of a castle he would be able to afford with the change in his back
pocket anyway.
Daisy ushered the opulent group to the House
with her scanning gaze, internally aware of the castigating role she should
assume on any other day; but this was no ordinary day, she realised. And so she
returned her focus back to the audience, and with a lenient forgiving posture,
she continued: “So there you have it,
dear readers, the Devil of the class, among whose latest pieces one may find
such wells of critical sophistication and brilliance of empathy as Post-post-post-pre-deconstruction as Viewed
by the Cherokee Invalid Overweight Feminists of the Atlanta School or who could forget his already timeless
classic The Selected Essays: or Me
Me Me Me Me; not you, not he, not she, and definitely not them, but ME.”
The next to arrive was ThLic. PhDr. DiS.
Piss. Hiss. Ludwig Ph.D., the theoretician of conscientious study… “and here walks Ludwig in his oh so notorious
upright gait and… And YES, it is confirmed dear readers: he IS studying as he
walks the red carpet! Oh, what a character! What a set of marvelous individuals
to walk in to the House to assume their seats of honour. What an accumulation
of success! Ladies and gentleman, authors, critics, publishers, editors; dear
readers, it is the 10th reunion of the 2015 AA class,” again the crowd’s
roar rises to unprecedented heights, “I
am Daisy Swift here reporting,-”
“We love you Daisy, Quote somebody!!”
“here reporting.. and.. and,” Daisy
stammers for a moment but keeps the presence of mind, “can you see that dear readers?..” and points in the direction of a quickly approaching flying object, ... “OH MY GOD, I believe that must be Mr
Hilsky’s chopper..!”
