The Plastic Age by Percy Marks (best fiction books to read TXT) 📕

Sir," He Replied. "Very Well,  Then. I Am Your Regular Adviser. You Will

Come To Me When You Need Assistance. Good Day."

"Good Day,  Sir," And As Hugh Passed Out Of The Door,  The Gruff Voice

Bawled,  "Next!" The Boy Nearest The Door Rose And Entered The Sanctum.

Hugh Sought The Open Air And Gazed At The Hieroglyphics On The Card.

"Guess They Mean Something," He Mused,  "But How Am I Going To Find Out?"

A Sudden Fear Made Him Blanch. "I Bet I Get Into The Wrong Places. Oh,

Golly!"

Then Came The Upper-Classmen,  Nearly Seven Hundred Of Them. The Quiet

Campus Became A Bedlam Of Excitement And Greetings. "Hi,  Jack. Didya

Have A Good Summer?"... "Well,  Tom,  Ol' Kid,  I Sure Am Glad To See You

Back."... "Put Her There,  Ol' Scout; It'S Sure Good To See You."

Everywhere The Same Greetings: "Didya Have A Good Summer? Glad To See

You Back." Every One Called Every One Else By His First Name; Every One

Shook Hands With Astonishing Vigor,  Usually Clutching The Other Fellow

By The Forearm At The Same Time. How Cockily These Lads Went Around The

Campus! No Confusion Or Fear For Them; They Knew What To Do.

For The First Time Hugh Felt A Pang Of Homesickness; For The First Time

He Realized That He Wasn'T Yet Part Of The College. He Clung Close To

Carl And One Or Two Other Lads In Surrey With Whom He Picked Up An

Acquaintance,  And Carl Clung Close To Hugh,  Careful To Hide The Fact

That He Felt Very Small And Meek. For The First Time _He_ Realized That

He Was Just A Freshman--And He Didn'T Like It.

Then Suddenly The Tension,  Which Had Been Gathering For A Day Or So,

Broke. Orders Went Out From The Upper-Classmen That All Freshmen Put On

Their Baby Bonnets,  Silly Little Blue Caps With A Bright Orange Button.

From That Moment Every Freshman Was Doomed. Work Was Their Lot,  And

Plenty Of It. "Hi,  Freshman,  Carry Up My Trunk. Yeah,  You,  Freshman--You

With The Skinny Legs. You And Your Fat Friend Carry My Trunk Up To The

Fourth Floor--And If You Drop It,  I'Ll Break Your Fool Necks."...

"Freshman! Go Down To The Station And Get My Suit-Cases. Here Are The

Checks. Hurry Back If You Know What'S Good For You."... "Freshman! Go

Up To Hill Twenty-Eight And Put The Beds Together."... "Freshman! Come

Up To My Room. I Want You To Hang Pictures."

Fortunately The Labor Did Not Last Long,  But While It Lasted Hugh Was

Hustled Around As He Never Had Been Before. And He Loved It. He Loved

His Blue Cap And Its Orange Button; He Loved The Upper-Classmen Who

Called Him Freshman And Ordered Him Around; He Loved The Very Trunks

That He Lugged So Painfully Up-Stairs. He Was Being Recognized,  Merely

As A Janitor,  It Is True,  But Recognized; At Last He Was A Part Of

Sanford College. Further,  One Of The Men Who Had Ordered Him Around The

Most Fiercely Wore A Nu Delta Pin,  The Emblem Of His Father'S

Fraternity. He Ran That Man'S Errands With Such Speed And Willingness

That The Hero Decided That The Freshman Was "Very,  Very Dumb."

That Night Hugh And Carl Sat In 19 Surrey And Rested Their Aching Bones,

One On A Couch,  The Other In a Leather Morris Chair.

"Hot Stuff,  Wasn'T It?" Said Hugh,  Stretching Out Comfortably.

"Hot Stuff,  Hell! How Do They Get That Way?"

"Never Mind; We'Ll Do The Ordering Next Year."

"Right You Are," Said Carl Decisively,  Lighting A Cigarette,  "And Won'T

I Make The Little Frosh Walk." He Gazed Around The Room,  His Face

Beaming With Satisfaction. "Say,  We'Re Pretty Snappy Here,  Aren'T We?"

Hugh,  Too,  Looked Around Admiringly. The Walls Were Almost Hidden By

Banners,  A Huge Sanford Blanket--Hugh'S Greatest Contribution--Carl'S

Kane Blanket,  The Photographs Of The "Harem," Posters Of College

Athletes And Movie Bathing-Girls,  Pipe-Racks,  And Three Maxfield Parrish

Prints.

"It Certainly Is Fine," Said Hugh Proudly. "All We Need Is A Barber Pole

And A Street Sign."

"We'Ll Have 'Em Before The Week Is Out." This With Great Decision.

Carl'S Adviser Had Been Less Efficient Than Hugh'S; Therefore He Knew

What His Courses Were,  Where The Classes Met And The Hours,  The Names Of

His Instructors,  And The Requirements Other Than Latin For A B.S.

Degree. Carl Said That He Was Taking A B.S. Because He Had Had A Year Of

Greek At Kane And Was Therefore Perfectly Competent To Make Full Use Of

The Language; He Could Read The Letters On The Front Doors Of The

Fraternity Houses.

The Boys Found That Their Courses Were The Same But That They Were In

Different Sections. Hugh Was In a Dilemma; He Could Make Nothing Out Of

His Card.

"Here," Said Carl,  "Give The Thing To Me. My Adviser Was A Good Scout

And Wised Me Up. This P.C. Isn'T Paper Cutting As You Might Suppose;

It'S Gym. You'Ll Get Out Of That By Signing Up For Track. P.C. Means

Physical Culture. Think Of That! You Can Sign Up For Track Any Time

To-Morrow Down At The Gym. And E I,  7 Means That You'Re In english I,

Section 7; And M Is Math. You Re In Section 3. Lat Means Latin,  Of

Course--Section 6. My Adviser--He Tried Pretty Hard To Be Funny--Said

That G.S. Wasn'T Glorious Salvation But General Science. That Meets In

The Big Lecture Hall In cranston. We All Go To That. And H I,  4 Means

That You Are In Section 4 Of History I. See? That'S All There Is To It.

Now This Thing"--He Held Up A Printed Schedule--"Tells You Where The

Classes Meet."

With A Great Deal Of Labor,  Discussion,  And Profanity They Finally Got A

Schedule Made Out That Meant Something To Hugh. He Heaved A

Brobdingnagian Sigh Of Relief When They Finished.

"Well," He Exclaimed,  "That'S That! At Last I Know Where I'M Going. You

Certainly Saved My Life. I Know Where All The Buildings Are; So It Ought

To Be Easy."

"Sure," Said Carl Encouragingly; "It'S Easy. Now There'S Nothing To Do

Till To-Morrow Until Eight Forty-Five When We Attend Chapel To The Glory

Of The Lord. I Think I'Ll Pray To-Morrow; I May Need It. Christ! I Hate

To Study."

"Me,  Too," Hugh Lied. He Really Loved Books,  But Somehow He Couldn'T

Admit The Fact,  Which Had Suddenly Become Shameful,  To Carl. "Let'S Go

To The Movies," He Suggested,  Changing The Subject For Safety.

"Right-O!" Carl Put On His Freshman Cap And Flung Hugh'S To Him. "Gloria

Nielsen Is There,  And She'S A Pash Baby. Ought To Be A Good Fillum."

The Blue And Orange--It Was The Only Movie Theater In Town--Was Almost

Full When The Boys Arrived. Only A Few Seats Near The Front Were Still

Vacant. A Freshman Started Down The Aisle,  His "Baby Bonnet" Stuck

Jauntily On The Back Of His Head.

"Freshman!"... "Kill Him!"... "Murder The Frosh!" Shouts Came From All

Parts Of The House,  And An Instant Later Hundreds Of Peanuts Shot

Swiftly At The Startled Freshman. "Cap! Cap! Cap Off!" There Was A Panic

Of Excitement. Upper-Classmen Were Standing On Their Chairs To Get Free

Throwing Room. The Freshman Snatched Off His Cap,  Drew His Head Like A

Scared Turtle Down Into His Coat Collar,  And Ran For A Seat. Hugh And

Carl Tucked Their Caps Into Their Coat Pockets And Attempted To Stroll

Nonchalantly Down The Aisle. They Hadn'T Taken Three Steps Before The

Bombardment Began. Like Their Classmate,  They Ran For Safety.

Then Some One In The Front Of The Theatre Threw A Peanut At Some One In

The Rear. The Fight Was On! Yelling Like Madmen,  The Students Stood On

Their Chairs And Hurled Peanuts,  The Front And Rear Of The House

Automatically Dividing Into Enemy Camps. When The Fight Was At Its

Hottest,  Three Girls Entered.

"Wimmen! Wimmen!" As The Girls Walked Down The Aisle,  Infinitely Pleased

With Their Reception,  Five Hundred Men Stamped In Time With Their

Steps.

No Sooner Were The Girls Seated Than There Was A Scramble In One Corner,

An Excited Scuffling Of Feet. "I'Ve Got It!" A Boy Screamed. He Stood On

His Chair And Held Up A Live Mouse By Its Tail. There Was A Shout Of

Applause And Then--"Play Catch!"

The Boy Dropped The Writhing Mouse Into A Peanut Bag,  Screwed The Open

End Tight-Closed,  And Then Threw The Bag Far Across The Room. Another

Boy Caught It And Threw It,  This Time Over The Girls' Heads. They

Screamed And Jumped Upon Their Chairs,  Holding Their Skirts,  And Dancing

Up And Down In assumed Terror. Back Over Their Heads,  Back And Over,

Again And Again The Bagged Mouse Was Thrown While The Girls Screamed And

The Boys Roared With Delight. Suddenly One Of The Girls Threw Up Her

Arm,  Caught The Bag Deftly,  Held It For A Second,  And Then Tossed It

Into The Rear Of The Theater.

Cheers Of Terrifying Violence Broke Loose: "Ray! Ray! Atta Girl! Hot

Dog! Ray,  Ray!" And Then The Lights Went Out.

"Moosick! Moosick! Moo-_Sick_!" The Audience Stamped And Roared,

Whistled And Howled. "Moosick! We Want Moosick!"

The Pianist,  An Undergraduate,  Calmly Strolled Down The Aisle.

"Get A Move On!"... "Earn Your Salary!"... "Give Us Moosick!"

The Pianist Paused To Thumb His Nose Casually At The Entire Audience,

And Then Amid Shouts And Hisses Sat Down At The Piano And Began To Play

"Love Nest."

Immediately The Boys Began To Whistle,  And As The Comedy Was Utterly

Stupid,  They Relieved Their Boredom By Whistling The Various Tunes That

The Pianist Played Until The Miserable Film Flickered Out.

Then The "Feature" And The Fun Began. During The Stretches Of Pure

Narrative,  The