An Undecided Major, an Undead Student

By Sam Fran Scavuzzo
Collegian Editor
September 27, 2006

Seated in the northwest corner of the library, I hacked blood into a familiar handkerchief. Embroidered into the tissue’s musty cloth were my father’s initials, “D.M.” I could say they are my own and perjury could not be levied against me. However I did not go by the “D;” my middle initial of “P” sufficed.

Closing a biography on Bela Legosi, I wondered what time my Introduction to Vampiring Class would begin. Already it was nearing three a.m., so naturally I was beginning to get a little anxious.

Slowly, I got up from my comfortable chair and flew over to the Registrar’s office located beneath the campus belfry. The women informed me the class began at a quarter to three making me about 15 minutes late.

I panicked. Who knew what foul monster would haunt the class I tardily scampered to? Thinking the worst, I assumed death by evisceration or being locked in a garlic salt container.

Still worse, some hag could dangle my entrails to the hounds of hell. Ironically, those same hounds were my deciding factor in choosing Transylvanian Institute for Incising. It didn’t hurt having my family as alumni either.

Bursting through the dungeon door, I was out of breath as the class gasped and fized their gaze upon me.

“Mister Metternich, we’ve been expecting you,” spoke the professor with an all-too-knowing grin. “Class, this fiend is the illustrious Dracula Metternich.”

“Actually, I go by Pete,” I interjected. “Peter Metternich.”

The first day of school is always tough, especially for the undead.

scavuzzos1@lasalle.edu