narrative story
Saturday afternoon, I am seated outside the theatre eating a taco. I had just come out of the theatre where I was watching a play dubbed Hamlet (Shakespeare and Hibbard, 125). In most parts, through the play, I did not understand the plot the characters were depicting. However, I remained as attentive as possible because later in the evening over a game of chess, I would need to go into detail with the professor about that particular play. I check my watch, and its five minutes to two, and as I predicted, I see the black mustang pull up in the parking.
Professor Edward Gilmore Jr. is a teacher in English and Linguistics at the University of Helm and also happens to be the head of the language department. Professor Edward, as he likes to be addressed, is a sharp dresser that only wears suits. Even if you know nothing about suits and their material this particular type of clothing you will recognize, the fabric he says is imported from the top Mills in Italy.
As I walk towards his car, with my taco still in hand, I try to engage him in small talk, but Professor Edward does not answer. He is keen, staring at my hand. When I try to get into the car, he scoffs, “Mind your manners, young man.” Then it hits me that you do not get into the professor’s car with food, so I had to dispose of my half-eaten taco so I could get into the car. The inside of the car is squeaky clean, with black leather seats and white mats. The first time I got to ride in the car, I asked the professor if I should take my shoes off before getting in, and he not lacking wit asked me to do it and wrap them up in a bag.
The first time I encountered Professor Edward I was a sophomore in the University, he moderating a debate between two hopeful presidential candidates who had organized a discussion in a bid to popularize themselves to the students’ voter population. I was amazed by the eloquence and expert communication skills, the professor talked in a slow nasal modulated voice that kept the listener hanging on to his next word, and despite the candidates’ political stature, he remained poised and objective throughout the interview. After the discussion, I remember asking a classmate who the journalist was, he laughed sarcastically and asked: “Which journalist can afford such a suit, that’s Sir Gilmore Jr.”
I went to his office to request him to become my mentor. As I was waiting at his large office lobby that had a massive portrait of the professor wearing a black pin-striped suit covering one part of the wall, a lady walked in and asked to know how she would help me, and I told her I wanted to Sir Gilmore Jr. Her face immediately contorted, and she asked me never to refer to the professor in that name. She showed me into Professor Edward’s large office that had a humongous mahogany table, the professor who was getting off the phone asked me in his commanding voice, “Hello, how can I be of your service?” I told him I wanted him to mentor me. “Do you enjoy watching classical plays?”