Young Patrick has a ghastly - visited by Spock, Costello, Hillary

By Pat Hogan
Collegian Staff
April 26, 2006

One evening, a mere four days before the last day of class, Patrick was working on his last-ever Collegian article when suddenly he heard a dull, moaning noise from outside his bedroom door.

“Who is it?” he asked nervously.

“It is I,” replied a mysterious figure with pointed ears and a blue shirt. “The Ghost of Graduation Past.”

“Why do you look like Leonard Nimoy in the original Star Trek series?”

“I merely searched your subconscious for an appropriate image from your past to present myself to you.” The Vulcan science officer nodded his head gravely, “Basic logic, my friend.”

“Well, why are you here?” asked Patrick.

Nimoy spread out his hands, accidentally knocking off one of his ears. “Why are any of us here?” He stopped, thought for a moment and then recanted, “Wait, I just remembered. I’m here to show you all the poor decisions and mistakes you’ve made the last four years.”

Patrick let out an ironic laugh. “Got a few days? I spent the first two years of college bouncing from club to club never really belonging anywhere, while at the same time I just floated along in an uninteresting major. I started a new club only to abandon it when it became too much work to maintain. Junior year I realized that I really wanted to be an English major, but by then it was too late to change. I’ve missed classes, gotten poor grades and turned down tons of opportunities, including not getting involved in the Collegian until my junior year. Did I leave anything out?”

Nimoy checked his tri-corder. “Well, it also says here you once wore socks and sandals at the same time, but other than that, I think you’ve covered all the bases.” He picked up his fallen ear. “Well, thanks for making my job easier. Live long and prosper.”

No sooner had he left than another figure showed up at Patrick’s door, this one more familiar. Patrick quickly recognized him as his friend, sophomore Mark Costello, whom he had chosen to replace him as Commentary Editor.

“Mark, what are you doing here? How did you get in my townhouse?” Patrick asked.

“Nimoy let me in. He asked me to be the Ghost of Graduation Present.”

“Oh,” said Pat. “So I suppose you’re here to tell me how crappy my life is right now?”

“No, not at all,” said Mark. “Things are going great for you.”

“Really?” Patrick asked. “My senioritis has caused me to seriously neglect my final semester of classes, and unlike most of my fellow seniors, I don’t have the slightest inkling of where I’m going to be employed after graduation, unless Hollywood Video counts.”

“Okay, you’re right. Excuse me for trying to make you feel better.” Mark turned to leave, before turning back to say, “Who has Spock as a spirit guide? Nerd!”

Patrick waited there for a few moments, expecting someone else to come up the stairs. It wasn’t until he turned around that he was shocked to see Hillary Rodham Clinton sitting at his computer.

“What are you doing in here?” Patrick asked the freshman senator from New York.

“I’m the Ghost of Graduation Future,” said Clinton.

“Uh, you are?” Patrick asked.

“Oh yes,” she said. You've become one of my biggest fans a little bit down the road.”

“Are you sure?” Patrick asked uncomfortably. “Because I tend to think of myself as fairly conservative.”

“True,” said Clinton, “but a few years from now your moderate tendencies develop into full-blown liberalism and you help campaign for my re-election to the presidency in 2012.

“Oh.”

“Also,” continued Clinton, “at some point in the future, you stop being such a whiny baby. You realize that in spite of all the mistakes and faux pas that went on during college, they were the best four years of your life. You made friendships that will last forever. Despite being unsatisfied with your major, you discerned your true calling in the field of writing. You had some truly great professors in Grauke, Stow, Kerlin and Swierzcynski. Plus, you will look back fondly for the rest of your life on the time you spent writing for the Collegian.”

“Aha,” Patrick said, feeling a little better. “Wait, aren’t you actually going to tell me something about my future other than teasing me about my political affiliation?”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” said Clinton. “I’m only allowed to help you realize that the past four years didn’t suck as much as you’d like to think sometimes. Although hang on to those,” she said pointing to a stack of Ultimate Spiderman trade paperbacks. “Those are practically legal tender after the great nerd rebellion of 2015.”

And with that, she disappeared in a ball of green flame and evil laughter.

Patrick reflected on this for a moment. Perhaps he had been a bit too harsh on himself. Or perhaps there was something in the La Salle water supply other than fluoride.

Either way, he had an article to write. He sat down at the computer and began to type, “One evening, a mere four days before the last day of class…”

hoganp1@lasalle.edu