By Gilligan Gonzo —
I was on my way to the Don and Nona Williams Stadium when I felt the shakes coming on. Looking down at my hands, I could see them dancing to a beat of their own drum, apparently one being played by a four-armed metal musician.
Five days without sleep will do that to a body. Constant dosing of caffeine will keep the mind alert, but at the cost of losing fine muscle control, resulting in poor coordination, poor reflexes and chronic spasms throughout the extremities.
Lucky for me, my balance had remained intact as I rode my long-board, The Glacier. A seemingly strange name for a board until you see that it’s white and rips down hills, and feel that it’s heavy as hell.
Arriving at the stadium, I pulled up to the broken window that was to the right of the ticket sales area. I got to work, playing the part of a professional journalist, snapping pictures of the shattered glass.
I looked around, surveying for clues and people to talk to. Nobody was in sight. Desperate for an interview, I turned and asked the stadium, “Hey Don, hello Nona, what seems to have happened here?”
Now, I’d spoken to buildings many times, but this was the first instance where I received a response.
“Well,” they said in unison. Then the voice of Don went on, “Sometimes a building just has to shift a little to get comfortable.”
My sudden involvement in a discussion with a building wasn’t too startling; I had been hearing whispers since hour 42 of my no-sleep escapade, and it was only a matter of time before they spoke up.
“So this was not a malicious attack by a person?” I questioned further.
“Of course not!” the voice of Nona exclaimed. “Nobody would harm us purposefully. We are respected and adored by the community!” The ground started to rumble beneath my feet as the building grew angry.
Unsure whether the stadium was causing a minor earthquake in a fit of rage or if the shakes had simply migrated to my legs, I fled the scene unwilling to take a risk. I may have struck a chord with the building and hoped to get out of there before Nona decided to drop a stadium light on my disrespectful little head.
I made my way to Price Commons to get more pictures of building damage. The idea was to write a story on the unpredictability of building maintenance and to show how some that needed repairs may be neglected in the wake of the proposed budget cuts to the UW System.
That was my job now, uncovering all the things the new cuts will delay or downright destroy. As the go-to reporter for all Walker related material, it has been my duty to follow and record this madman for months, watching as he’s rampaged through the UW System, hacking budgets and pissing on ideas. It’s been quite the show.
Approaching my destination, I slowly cruised past a girl. She had a body that stood as a miracle of god, but her face was hidden by large, round alien-eye sunglasses—a Schrodinger’s Chick, a lady lost in the limbo of a superposition, neither hot or not but both at the same time, until the shades are removed.
As I forcefully diverted my attention from the girl to the building, I noticed that Mr. Price had some curves of his own.
“So what’s with this wall bowing out?” I asked, gazing at the brick veneer bending out four inches from the south wall.
“I was just flexing,” Price Commons responded. “But now I’ll stay put for the renovation.”
“What renovation?” I inquired. Price informed me that there had been a multi-million dollar renovation for him approved. He went on to confess that he had been worried that the budget cuts would have canceled his update.
“Ok thank you, Mr. Price,” I said as I rode away. That experience ended much better than the one with Nona. It seemed that I was becoming better at interacting with buildings. But, what did he mean when he said, “now I’ll stay put?”
To be continued.