mmmcclxxix

The Handoff

The combine of our past is here
to meet us, just past the cusp of
the future forecast (50% chance
of fair to middlin’; that is, if we’re

only talking mere decades – be
yond that it is left to the fair to
middlin’ people at Forecast Ltd).
The handoff will transpire at

the museum most convenient to
all parties involved (so long as no
party occurs at the museum). We
have arrived at the museum dire

ctly from the University of Vague
Journalism, and just in the nick of
time. The 4 students are all ABD
at the UVJ, a nouveau boutique en

campment set up by Ventures &
Vectors Incorporated, Ltd, to, in
the words of its CEO & Founder,
“catch the media up with the

times,” and was an idea concoct
ed by a bored venture capitalist
one evening less than a decade
previous who thought he might

make the news more interesting
by incorporating standard arc and
plot aspects commonly utilized by
fiction’s mystery/suspense genre,

a sort of laboratory where Hercule 

Poirot meets Herb Caen, if you will.
Worried that revenues were flattening 

at the fledgling university, the CEO

& Founder, who was the very same
venture capitalist who had come up
with the kernel concept, had now
contrived a win-win plan whereby

he’d reverse the trend downward by

incorporating the deep pockets of
the art world, which had become
the lucrative juggernaut du jour.

His lover, Robert, lover of art and
art-lovers, even seemed gaga at
the shady new plan and its pros
pects. When given the lowdown

on the deal, Robert had seemed
a bit unimpressed. But later that
evening, both of them lying in bed
after a rather satisfying romp, Rob

ert finessed his way back to his
market-savvy man, plopped his
head upon the same pillow so
that Robert's lips were at his

lover’s ear, and whispered “any
thing you want, darling, I don't
mind at all, just so long as the
goats don’t.” And in seconds

he was fast asleep, dreaming
giddily of his dear Angoras.