Report to the School

Other than feeling stiff, tired, and a bit cranky from his uncomfortable night outside, Xabar feels fine, with no apparent side-effects from the pollen. “I’ve gone this far,” he thinks. “I might as well see the plan through to completion.”

He briefly wonders how the real Flaccidocious Willowby is faring right now. He is, no doubt, trying to convince a bunch of helpful folks that he is not insane or dangerous and that he is, in fact, really a professor who is supposed to be teaching at an all-girls academy. Xabar shrugs off the momentary pang of remorse when he remembers how mousey and pathetic Willowby was. “Putting a man like that in an all-girls school would be a waste of testosterone — assuming he has any,” he thinks.

After carefully looking around to make sure no one — particularly Amanda’s suspicious father — can see him, Xabar emerges from his hiding place. He brushes off his clothes and runs his fingers through his hair as a makeshift comb. Taking a deep breath, he steels himself and approaches St. Althea’s Academy.

Near the door is a brick pillar. It holds a massive bronze bust of a boar’s head, identical to the image that adorned the letter of invitation from the school. The terrifying creature has enormous jowels, hideous teeth, and tiny fierce eyes. Xabar wonders who thought it was a good idea to have something that ugly as a mascot for a school that was full, he was certain, of beautiful, nubile young ladies.

He approaches the door, takes hold of the knocker, and announces his desire for entry. Several moments pass, and he is about to knock again, when the door opens. He prepares himself for his first sight of one of the many lovely creatures with whom he will be living for the foreseeable future.

Much to his surprise — and utter horror — the door opens to reveal a massive woman. She stands at nearly six feet, and she is at least as wide as she is tall. Her brownish-gray hair is bound up in several braids that are wound together, giving her the appearance of having a bunch of cow patties strapped to her head. She is wearing a dress that could probably be repurposed as a 6-man tent. Her legs, as thick as they are, seem hopelessly too tiny to support her bulk. Massive saggy breasts look like they would hang down past her knees if her bra straps suddenly broke under the strain. Her beady eyes stare down through a thick pair of glasses. “Professor Willowby, I presume?”

Xabar is uncharacteristically speechless as he blinks his eyes, wondering if he is still dreaming.

“I was concerned that something had happened to you. I was expecting you yesterday. Please come in. I am Mathilda Crütchnoober, Headmistress of St. Althea’s.”

She steps to one side to make way for him to enter. Xabar imagines that he can feel the ground tremble as she shifts her weight. He gulps, wondering if he miscalculated the sort of women he would find at St. Althea’s. He takes another look over his shoulder at the street that leads away from the school.