note 1: There's no sex in this story. Honest. Consider yourself warned.
note 2: With my deepest respect and apologies to the late, P. G. Wodehouse.
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"If only the good die young, that crew will live to a hundred." This unflattering rumination came from one, William Jackson Sinclair IV, aka, Willie. The target of his jaundiced assessment was the Iota Fraternity test procurement committee. He was gazing upon that clandestine organization's entire membership which, at the moment, was passed out in a back room of the Iota house amid a clutter of cards, empty beer cans, and at least two females of indeterminate origin.
What prompted Willie's unkind assessment was not the group's bacchanalian excesses, but the members total failure to obtain any copies of his upcoming tests. This dereliction of duty meant he faced some serious book time.
Casual observers, unaware of the fortitude possessed by the scion of the Sinclair clan, might have expected him to quail at the prospect of real study. For it is true that not unlike the lily of the field, young Willie spun not, neither did he weave in the groves of academe. It is, therefore, to his credit that young Willie's resolve was unshaken. This stouthearted attitude was due, in no small measure, to the proximity of a certain, Ms Edwina Toupes.
Known to her small but loyal band of friends and admirers as, "Etta," she was an acknowledged campus brain. Willie's surprising inclusion in her circle of acquaintances was due to his sincere appreciation for Ms Toupes' remarkable mental capabilities and her unfailing willingness to share that gift with him.
It is true, that he sometimes overheard certain Iota brothers making gross references to her grade point average far exceeding her bosom's measurement. But like most other thoughts, ones about her figure seldom troubled his mind. To him, the important point was not the modest number assigned to Etta's bosom, but the even more modest figure that now represented his own grade point average.
For Willie, Ms Toupes' attraction was spiritual and intellectual, not physical. It was an appeal not of the flesh but of the mind. In short, he knew no one was more capable than Etta of helping him overcome his very real academic shortcomings.
This profound appreciation of Ms Toupes' scholarly qualifications was commendable. But when it came to noticing the young lady's physical attributes, he was a total failure. For a worldly-wise Iota Assistant Rush Chairman, the oversight was surprising. It is true that even charitable observers described Etta as petite, even slender. However, those same individuals also noted, with approval, her large brown eyes, pert button of a nose, brilliant smile and long, rather shapely legs.
The condition of Etta's legs was a combination of favorable genetics and her participation on the school's new women's track team. Etta's involvement with varsity athletics troubled Willie. As a key member of the football team, he held on point-after and field goal attempts, he knew how physically demanding sports could be.
He was also bothered by her recent adoption of "Ms" as her preferred title. This might be the '70's, but Willie's views on social norms were of an old-world, antiquarian bent. However, he credited himself with being tolerant enough to overlook Etta's recent faddish excesses. This forbearance reflected both his cosmopolitan appreciation for the capriciousness of the female of the specie and his current academic imperatives. As a result, he had no problem curbing his natural instinct towards brotherly remonstration.
Willie felt justified in this decision. After all, Etta was an intelligent girl, in a bookish sort of way. Sooner or later, her basic good sense would overcome these impulsive gestures toward undue modernity. So it was with a clear conscience that he hopped in his car and exited the Iota house parking lot in search of Ms Etta.
The automobile in question was a dilapidated model rich in years. To the uninitiated, this might seem surprising. Willie was sole heir to the Sinclair family fortune, the limits of which had been perceived by few and then but dimly and at a great distance. But Willie considered, "The Heap," his fond name for the car, a thing of joy and satisfaction.
The Sinclair's did not amass a rather large pile of liquid assets by being spendthrifts. The cautious use of money was preached to young Willie from his earliest days. The Sinclair's were, as a rule, extremely frugal. Willie proved to be a rather glaring exception to that rule.
The Heap was the chief, some would say only, evidence the sermons of his elders were not totally in vain. Willie had it from a good authority, his mother, that its presence was all that kept his allowance checks rolling in. He was now guiding The Heap in an unusual direction, toward that natural habitat of Ms Edwina Toupes, the school library.
Etta had just reached the library steps when Willie once again staged an entrance into her life. Since it was test week, this meeting came as no surprise. Willie had been staging these raids on her with tidal regularity since their freshman year in high school.
One unwanted by-product of her periodic attempts at academic resuscitation was the solitary "B" that kept her from having a perfect 4.00 average. But Etta had a remarkably sanguine attitude toward Willie's reappearances.
Since their first meeting in ninth grade, she'd been fascinated by Willie Sinclair. In her opinion, he was a force of nature, but with a quiet charm most people overlooked. In addition, he was very good looking, which was nice, and possessed many things she lacked, such as money and self-confidence.
Over the years, Etta came to realize she had things missing from Willie's make-up. High on that list were common sense and self-discipline. However, time and self-awareness had not lessened her fascination with Willie. Therefore, she greeted him warmly. "Willie, what's a guy like you doing in a nice place like this?"
"Just trying to improve the image of this den of learning, Ms Toupes. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off burning a bra or some such?" Willie couldn't believe what he just said. It wasn't a very smart thing to say when about to ask for a favor. But most of all, in light of her endowment, or lack of the same, it was downright rude.
"Sorry about that, Etta. I didn't, you know, mean to get personal. I mean, politics is one thing but friendship is another, uh, don't you know." Willie squirmed. Apologies weren't his strong suit, few things were, and he'd hashed that one to the max.
As usual, Etta was a good scout. "It wouldn't do me any good to go to one those demonstrations. Training bras are flame proof." Just like Etta to let a fellow off the hook, he thought, experiencing an intense feeling of gratitude.
