John Barth - Giles Goat-Boy

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: Or that one man did in the Dean's whole crew.

TALIPED: How nice of you to mention that!

AGENORA: Now look:

You were alone at Three-Tined Fork. That shnook,

the shepherd, said it was a gang that cut

the Dean up. We all heard him say it. But

so what if he says something different now?

I told you once already, sweetie, how

Labdakides turned off our poor kid early

and beat the prophecy. So put your curly

head to rest on that point, baby. We'll

ring the shepherd in to give his spiel,

but nothing he can say will change the facts.

Proph-profs are for morons. So relax.

TALIPED: Gee whiz, I hope you're right.

AGENORA: I always am,

sweetheart.

[TO COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN]

Run along now, sport.

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: Yes, ma'am.

AGENORA:[TO TALIPED]

My little boy will have his little way.

Let's go in, till the shepherd comes, and play.

When Taliped and Agenora went into the Deanery, the committee reconvened onstage, this time in a circle, and holding hands skipped gravely clockwise on the strophes and counterclockwise on the antistrophes of their quite perplexèd ode.

Department-heads like us are loath [STROPHE 1

To question old traditions;

We honor deans and proph-profs both,

Despite their oppositions.

The Dean's our boss, and so we trust [ANTISTROPHE 1

Gynander was mistaken.

Yet proph-profs can't be wrong; we must

Preserve our faith unshaken.

To question proph-profs doesn't pay; [STROPHE 2

It leads to bold conjectures.

If students got that habit, they

Might criticize our lectures.

The Prophecy Department would [ANTISTROPHE 2

Go bankrupt. Heads would fall — -

Department-heads, perhaps. No good

Can come from doubt at all.

Dear Founder, Whose most cagey hand [STROPHE 3

Arranges how things go:

Preserve us from all changes, and

Maintain the status quo.

Keep us from doubts, reforms, imprudence, [ANTISTROPHE 3

New ideas, too;

And we'll see to it that the students

Still believe in You.

"That was a right pretty thought there," Peter Greene said. "I approve of that."

I remarked to Dr. Sear that it looked to me as though Dean Taliped might really turn out to have done what the Proph-prof Gynander foretold, in which case he was certainly the flunkèdest man in the University.

"He is that," Dr. Sear agreed. "But there's more to it." As Agenora came forth from the Deanery he added in a whisper: "The business of the ID-card comes up now. Very important."

Agenora displayed some green branches and small bottles which she was carrying, and addressed the committee:

AGENORA: For Pete's sake, simmer down, boys. Don't you think

I've been a dean's wife much too long to stink

my public image up? I know quite well

the Proph-prof's full of bull — but I won't tell.

I'll go to Founder's Hall and lay these sticks

and perfume-bottles on him, as the hicks

expect me to. That faker gets my goat,

but Agenora doesn't rock the boat.

[Enter MAILMAN

MAILMAN: Excuse me, lady — -

AGENORA: Well, now. Who's this?

MAILMAN: A Handsome Mailman.

AGENORA: How about a kiss,

handsome?

MAILMAN: Sure, kid.

AGENORA: Mmm. I think you'd better

repeat the message, honey. Mmm.

MAILMAN: This letter

here's a special-delivery, ma'am; I guess

I'd better get it to the right address,

much as I'd like to neck awhile. You know

we Handsome Mailmen can't be stopped by snow

or dead of night or housewives out to vamp us.

I'll see you after hours.

AGENORA: On this campus,

love, you'll see me when I want you to.

I'm Mrs. Taliped.

MAILMAN: You are? Then you

can take this letter for your husband, dear.

It's from his alma mater. Now, come here;

that means my work's all done and we can neck

a little while before I have to trek

along.

AGENORA: Hold on…

MAILMAN: That's what I'm doing, girlie.

AGENORA: I'd better read this first.

MAILMAN: It says that early

yesterday the Dean of Isthmus died.

Heart attack. Now are you satisfied?

AGENORA: I see you like to read what you're delivering.

MAILMAN: Here's something else to set your husband quivering:

as soon as he presents his ID-card

at Isthmus College, folks there will regard

him as their dean, as well as yours, I try

to memorize these things in case some guy

should ever rob the mail, you understand?

AGENORA: You bet I do, big boy. Let go my hand

now; here comes hubby.

[TO TALIPED]

Hi there, Taliped.

This Handsome Mailman just blew in and said

your father down in Isthmus had a stroke

or something and dropped dead.

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: I'm glad you woke

up when you did, sir.

TALIPED:I'm not.

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: This sad news

is not without its brighter side…

TALIPED: Who's

dead? What's this? What's up? What does it mean?

AGENORA: It means, sleepyhead, that you're the dean

of Isthmus College now, and Cadmus too.

It also means that anybody who

believes the proph-profs is a bloody fool.

I told you so. Don't worry now that you'll

do in your dad. The old man had heart-failure.

TALIPED: He did?

MAILMAN: That's right.

AGENORA: As for your mother's tail, you're

not to worry over that again.

TALIPED: I'm not?

AGENORA: No.

TALIPED: Why not?

AGENORA: Because half the men

on campus, in their dreams, have slipped it in

the place they first came out of. That's no sin.

MAILMAN: She's right. I've dreamt such things myself at times.

AGENORA: I'm sure you have, pet.

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: Dreams like that aren't crimes,

Dean Taliped.

TALIPED: Are you still here?

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN: Yes, sir.

AGENORA: Those evil-minded proph-profs like to stir

up trouble by pretending dreams come true.

They don't, so there.

TALIPED: It isn't hard for you

to talk that way, dear: you don't have the curse.

COMMITTEE CHAIRMAN:[TO MAILMAN]

She hasn't had for years.

MAILMAN: That's nice.

TALIPED: The worse