Fictionlet
“Hmm,” said Greg.
“Hmm?” said Brigid.
“Yes, hmm,” said Greg. “I said ‘hmm’ and I stand by it.”
“‘Hmm’ what?” said Brigid.
“I’m feeling strangely academic, today,” said Greg, looking out the rain-spattered window.
“And what does that mean, exactly?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure,” said Greg. “That’s why I said, ‘Hmm.'”
“Ah.”
“Yes.”
“Well you can give me a rough sketch, can’t you?” said Brigid.
“I suppose I can, at that,” said Greg. “Today, I’m of a mood to sit around an old brownstone building with other members of the honors society, bantering back and forth about the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner, that kind of thing.”
“I wouldn’t expect there to be much banter material in the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner,” said Brigid.
“Are you kidding? All you need is for one banterer — banterista? — to ask what flavor the albatross is, and you’ve launched into a Monty Python routine.”
“Hmm,” said Brigid.
“Hmm,” agreed Greg.
“So that’s feeling academic, is it?”
“Well, how else would you describe it? I’m longing for a type of experience rarely found off the college campus.”
“Maybe you should check Google for the most pretentious local coffee house you can find. That might do the job.”
“Not a bad idea, at that. But who hangs out at pretentious coffeehouses on a rainy Sunday afternoon?”
“People like you, for starters,” said Brigid, and headed for her room.
“Hmm,” said Greg.
-The Gneech
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