Rain

"Rats!" said Vag, as he snapped up the shade and looked at the rain. "Rubbers again."

It had been rubbers ever since he had been old enough to go outside on his own two feet. Vag wandered about his room, gathering together enough belongings to be properly dressed. Last of all, he searched out his rubbers and plunked himself into a chair.

"I wonder where it will all end," mused Vag as he grappled with the problem of having two feet, two shoes and two rubbers, curiously divided into rights and lefts. Rubber days were never a happy experience for Vag. He always felt surly, humanly frail, and totally unsuccessful with Radcliffe on such occasions. No matter how effete he managed to appear, no matter what he said of wit, his rubbers always had the last word. They never failed to remind him that he was a twitch. Vag sighed several theatrical sighs, took a few lumbering steps for practice, and gamely set off for class.

"Hello there, Vag," said a friend.

"Hello yourself," said Vag.

"Twitch," said the rubbers.

Vag flinched.

"How ya doing there, old Vag?" asked an acquaintance.

"About as well as your grandmother," answered Vag.

"Twitch," retorted his rubbers.

Vag bowed his head in defeat and shuffled onward. It took him all the way from the Square to Emerson to recover from his mortification. Outside room D, Vag took a deep breath and prepared to make an authoritative entrance into his Soc. Rel. class. But, all the way down the long aisle, Vag was acutely aware of the fact that his rubbers were being more authoritative than he was. He tried walking slowly, hoping to lull his rubbers into relative silence, but they were not so easily tricked. Vag fell into a seat in near panic. It was at least fifteen minutes before he was capable of taking notes.

"The modern psyche, as I am wont to call it," the Professor was saying, "is best with multitudinous problems brought on by modern civilization."

"That's me!" thought Vag, excitedly.

"It is constantly surrounded, indeed, overpowered, by the overly protective products of the atomic age."

"Yes, yes," murmured Vag, busily scratching down notes.

"The psyche has fallen prey to its own drive for security. In protecting itself against the elements, against the harsh rule of nature, it has allowed itself to be ruled by its very safety devices."

"Professor, you are a prophet," exclaimed Vag just under his breath, totally unaware of the interested Cliffie taking notes on him.

Vag put down his pen and quit taking notes. He heard no more of the lecture, he was too involved in the task of working his rubbers off his feet. He wiggled discreetly in his chair, pushing one heel against the other until, finally, his Cordovans stood naked to the world.

When the great Harvard bells clanged noon, Vag stole triumphantly away from his rubbers. He left Emerson D and ambled through the puddled Yard, smiling at one and all. And, from the Square on, Vag walked slowly home, his feet unencumbered and blissfully wet.