Rites of Succession

Kyle Burkett



Well, the semester is winding down, so we decided to have one last shindig together during exam week. Traditionally the last shindig of the semester is scheduled as a bonfire at Dr. Railsback’s, but it always gets rained out so we eat KFC in the faculty lounge.

This time it was no different. It started raining sometime Sunday and continued until Tuesday, when we had the gathering. This gathering was a bit different from the regular meetings, there being food and on a Tuesday, not to mention that the Successor was going to name his successor. We had had independent elections, about like the Iraqis did after Saddam was forcibly removed, meaning that the results were decided before anyone actually voted. Saved us the trouble of thinking, so I can’t complain.

As a total surprise to everyone in the group, Brittany was named the new fearless leader of the guild. So much for officer training for me. Once they found out that I would graduate the same time as Brittany I was removed from the program. Well, I assume that’s what happened. I would show up for the training and no one else was there. All those hours making happy posters for the poetry slams down the tubes. Sigh…

Anyway, after seeing the rituals connected with the succession to the Creative Writers’ Guild throne, I’m kind of glad I wasn’t selected. James scattered blackened rose petals in a circle around Brittany while chanting something in Anglo-Saxon. Then we all left the room and let the bunnies out of their cages to hop all around and over her while she entered her trance to discover her name while in office.

A few hours we reentered, chanting “Pie Jesu domine dona eis requiem” while beating our heads with boards. The bunnies were all dead and Brittany had blood all over her. She looked at Kristi and demanded in a strange eastern European accent, “Why have you let them torture me like this, Agent Fatale?” Kristi looked kind of confused and went on chanting. Brittany addressed Shorty next. “And you, Agent Badanov, what do you have to say in your defense?”

Shorty came back with “Uh, I don’t know.”

“Enough. The two of you are coming back to Pottsylvania immediately. You will be severely punished for your role in all of this.” She grabbed them mid-Jesu and dragged them to the elevator. Oh great. This probably means that I’m going to have to rescue them from some horrible fate again.

Brittany turned back to face me. “This time you will not interfere, meddling squirrel.” Why am I Rocky? Why couldn’t I have been Bullwinkle? Anyway, the three of them got on the elevator and vanished from sight. I think they went down. They didn’t come up after five minutes, so we dug into the buckets of chicken. No use letting good food go to waste.

I ran into James a few days later looking pale and thin. “It’s happening,” he said. “She must increase, and I must decrease.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Don’t you remember Tony? There’s only one way out of the guild.”

I blinked. Sure enough, Azrael was breathing down James’s neck like a thirsty vampire. Poor guy. I guess there’s no life after graduation after all.

I found out from Shorty a few days later that part of the agony of succession in the guild is the private ritual murder of the predecessor. I wonder how it happens. I guess I’ll never know.



back to the darkness