The Case Of The Uneducated Brick

Re-education of the criminal mind

The Case Of The Uneducated Brick 

So, the projectile, which at first glance appeared to be an errant asteroid crashing through the stain glass window of professor Quatrain's den at his country home, a quaint winter estate cottage, situated just outside Oxford, turned out to be a red brick with a note attachment. The message was secured with a rubber band of equally unknown and exasperatingly cruel origins.

The retired Englishman was startled at first. There he was enjoying his afternoon tea and biscuits, reflecting on his former career as an English teacher, an educator of some prominence as a matter of fact, when the peculiar incident occurred. A bust of Pallas was damaged, broken in the process from some foreign force invading his space with this unexpected intrusion. What would the Greek goddess of wisdom think or say if she were alive today? How would Athena react to seeing someone or some thing severing or removing an alabaster ear from her represented image? John Quatrain was never given to outburst of emotional displays but in this instance his eyes lit up large and round like two saucers of hate, filled with fear and confusion.

He removed the rubber band from the brick in haste and read the inscription on the crumpled up yellow paper, “i hates you Mr. no-it-all bubble brins. U gets an F from me and me buddys.”

The good professor was more offended by the pure dis-functionality of the author's abominable writing skills and misspellings than the damages inflicted to his favorite bust and antique window.

The first thoughts that ran through his head were; if he ever caught the scoundrel or scoundrels he would tie him or them up and teach them how to spell “know it all” and “brain” (an organ he was convinced they did not possess.) He would teach them words like “buddies” (in place of buddys) and “you” (in place of U) and how “hates” is incorrect in this context and that “hate” is the proper grammatical usage here.

Next he would educate them about upper case and lower case letters. They would learn about syntax, punctuation, phonetic accents, double consonants, diphthongs, trip-thongs, quadraphonic and quintiphthongs, (Combined vowel sounds as you know are not for the light of heart but its a start.) They must learn these skills before their meals.

He, she or they would clearly be denied tea. Criminals should only be allowed water. Perhaps warm water at that. Dinner should be served only to those persons who have mastered proper language skills in his estimation. Sandwich deprivation is surely the order of the day.

The old man suspected the brick and message originated from some disgruntled student, a failed individual or individuals at that from his teaching past. Should he call the constable or take matters into his own hands?

He decided to take a trip into town. The best place to dig up dirt was not at the cemetery or library but the local pub. Low life creatures have been known to frequent such tawdry places. The watering hole, a place of ill repute is the obvious spot to hatch their deviant plans, their clandestine insidious crimes against humanity.

The very next day just around dusk professor Quatrain drove his jalopy to the Wild Duck Inn. It turns out his timing was impeccable. It was fortuitous for all parties concerned. By chance or pure happenstance there were three suspects, three unsavory young men perched, hanging around the front bar when he entered.

They were literally clinging to it for support. Their speech was slurred. It was evident they were inebriated, obviously speaking in their native tongue, “vulgar” and wallowing in their ancestral heritage of poverty as the disease, the blight on human kind they had become. In general they fit the profile of poor breeding. Their attire spoke volumes. Poor taste, dressed up bum like in rural royal rags fit for a pig, which suited them to a T in their depravity.

Instead of ordering a drink, playing it cool, the stately old gentleman approached the three young hoodlums in a head on confrontation, a collision of the minds was being undertaken. A subtle tactical ploy was about to be deployed. A strategy deception to catch them in their simplistic hideous lies was under way. Conditions were ripe for the picking in the wink of an eye and smile.

He looked up and down at the fat one positioned between his buddies or “buddys” as they like to say. He was more than large. He was obese by obese standards, bald by bald standards and obtuse to astronomical proportions. His bulging eyes did not help to beautify him or help his cause.

He seemed to be the leader of the pack of rats. The professor posed a question to him; “You seem to have red on your hands.” “It is that the kind of red you might find on say, a red brick perhaps?” “You seem to have the smell of rubber bands on your hands.” “What might that mean?” “Is that the sent of yellow lined paper that I perceive on your finger tips?” The elderly gentleman stepped back and waited for a response.

All three became agitated. They began to twitch in harmony like skeletons being hung over an open fire. The allegations seemed to have touched a nerve. They stepped back and broke out in a cold sweat. Quatrain commented, “Your behavior says more than words ever could.”

“Which one of you neanderthals threw the brick?” “You will all pay for your actions.” “You owe me for a broken window and the cost for a new bust.”

The idiots pulled out their switch blades. The professor drew his gun from a lapel pocket. Someone in the bar shouted. “Never bring a knife to a gun fight!” The cowardly boys dropped their weapons, emptied their pockets and wallets of every penny they had. In total it amounted to thirty seven dollars and twenty seven cents.

The old man frowned with disappointment. “Gentlemen, you are a little short and a lot of dumb.” “I can either call the constable here to settle this matter or you can join me for dinner tomorrow night at my cottage where you can work for me to settle your debts.”

The three not so wise men agreed. They showed up on time the very next night. Two of the men were instructed to take a seat in the den. The other one was escorted down to the cellar to begin his job. The professor instantly pulled out his army gun, blind folded the unsuspecting boy, tied him to a chair then collected the other two, repeating the same process, one after the other until all three boys were tied up safe and sound and secure for their own good.

Their blind folds were removed. They faced a large black board with perhaps familiar or unfamiliar words, depending on your perspective, inscribed in chalk; words like “brain” “You” “Hate” “Hates” “Buddies” “No” “Know it all” and so on.

A few new words were added; respect, honor, values, etc. There would be a history lesson included as well at no extra cost. The bad boys would be learning about Ancient Greek history and about the goddess of wisdom Athena Pallas.

One of the young men yelled out, “Where's the grub you old retarded coot?!” Their new teacher responded, “There will be no talking in class.” “We should be finished here in a few days or months since you seemed to have forgotten your lessons when you were in school.” “Re-education is on the menu.” “I will be your devoted tutor for the foreseeable future.” “I hope you boys enjoy warm water.”

“Now, who would like to tell me the difference between “no” and “know” “Don't worry.” “There are no right or wrong answers where you are concerned.” “You will all be rewarded with your own red brick when the session is over.” “Being thick as a brick has its advantages.” “I'm sorry there will be no sandwiches.”