August 7, 2002

Today is the day to be like the big boys.

14

George Foreman awoke next to his vomit-filled toilet, with some chunks of food still on his face and clothes. He shook his head in disgust. Even he was repulsed by his state.

In his expensive, multi-headed marble shower, George readied himself for the tasks at hand. He would vomit again if he had to confront all his friends and family at once. He would handle it piecemeal. And that would begin with Professor Geflen. George was not looking forward to it. But God knows what would happen if he continued the way he was. He looked at the drain, which swirled with soap and shampoo and leftover bits of personal debris. Yes, he would die of frustration and anger if he didn't take matters into his own hands.

He got out of the shower and dried off with a thick Ralph Lauren towel. Even though George didn't take particularly good care of himself, he still enjoyed surrounding himself with the finer things in life. He got dressed, sipped a glass of expensive hearty Brunello and had a few cigarettes. It was time to call.

In his office, Geflen's number screamed out at him from his address book, as if to say, "Of course you'd come back. Just because you had a bender didn't mean you could escape me." George resisted the urge to sweep the book off his desk and picked up the phone.

"Henry."

"George!" Professor Geflen was surprised and delighted. George rarely, if ever, deigned to refer to Geflen by name. He barely did to anyone. He didn't want to give any of his fellow humans the illusion of having any meaning in his world. But he had to be sweet if he was to get any of the information that he wanted. He gritted his teeth. He had to make small talk.

"What's new, Professor?"

Geflen was flabbergasted. But that didn't stop him from bragging.

"Oh, well, you know, my thesis is going quite well. It's going to be published, you know, and I'm even talking to a few academic magazines about them running it as well."

The last part was a lie. Geflen was a worm of a man and didn't mind exaggerating to make himself seem better than he was. But George still had to play along.

"That's nice. What is it about?"

"Oh, you know, Faulkner."

George did not, oh, you know, Faulkner. He doubted that Geflen did either. In fact, George hated Faulkner. But still, he had to be nice.

"That's excellent Henry. Listen, I know you're probably very bus with your thesis and everything right now, but…"

"Yes?" Geflen asked eagerly. He was never invited to anything, ever.

"…But I was wondering if you could stand a visit from one of your favorite old students."

"Oh." Geflen was disappointed at first. He was not being invited anywhere.

"Oh, you're too busy?" asked George.

Sudenly Geflen realized that George Foreman, the George Foreman was asking him for an audience.

"No, I'm not busy, not busy at all!" Geflen said. George smirked over the line. Geflen realized that perhaps he was being a bit too truthful. "I mean," he added quickly, "I think I can fit you into my schedule. When were you thinking?"

"Oh, I don't know," said George. "How about tomorrow?"

"Okay!" chirped Geflen. Crap, he thought. Too eager.

"All right," said George, "I'll catch a plane out there tomorrow. I'll stop by and see you during office hours."

"Maybe we could get a drink or something afterwards," offered Geflen.

"Maybe," said George, forcing his voice to increase in octave on the second syllable to make it sound like a possible, positive event, not a chore for him.

"Excellent, George."

"Okay, Professor, I'll see you soon."

"Oh George?" Gorge wavered, tempted to pretend that he thought the conversation was over and put the receiver back on the hook.

"Yes, Henry?" George forced himself to respond.

"Any particular reason you're coming to see me?"

"No, Professor, just thought I'd stop by and see you and catch up. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye." This time George actually did put down the receiver, breathing in deeply. He'd have to call his assistant and have her book him a flight, and then, one of his least-favorite activities, packing.

Geflen actually clapped his hands together in glee. George Foreman was coming to visit him!