There’s a man whom I’ve come to revere
Without whose work this might not be here
Nonsensical but great
We should all celebrate
On the birthday of old Edward Lear

Jon was in a good mood.  It was the weekend, and his midterm exams were finally over, so he had absolutely nothing to worry about for a couple of days.  No homework, no reading, no studying, no papers.  His freedom had made him lighthearted, at times almost giddy.  For the first time in weeks he was able to smile rather than grimace, greet people pleasantly, and laugh at all . . .

. . . which was precisely why Dave and Jordan were so concerned.  They had never seen Jon like this before.  The Jon they knew was permanently grouchy.  Jon was supposed to stomp.  Jon was supposed to yell.  Jon was supposed to be surrounded by a “No-Fun Zone” twenty-four hours a day.  But ever since he had gotten out of class two days ago, none of those regular events had occurred even once.  It was like turning on your favorite TV program to discover that one of the actors has been replaced; they had no idea what to expect.

The most unusual thing was the box of cookies that had appeared on the kitchen counter that morning.  “I don’t get it,” said Dave.  “Where did these come from?”  Dave and Jordan did all their own shopping, because their tastes did not mesh well with Jon’s.  He liked yogurt and vegetables and things that had soy in them but weren’t soy sauce; their five food groups were meat, dessert, dairy, starch, and meat again, in that order.  The idea that Jon would bring chocolate chip cookies to the apartment was almost inconceivable.

“They look homemade,” Jordan noted as he peered through the box’s transparent sides.  This, too, did not fit the profile of the Jon they were familiar with.  As far as they knew, he had no cooking abilities whatsoever.  Since he was always in a hurry, he survived primarily on meals that required no preparation more complicated than a minute or two in the microwave.  The apartment had an oven, but they had never seen him use it.  And yet . . . there the cookies were.

“Well,” Dave said, after the two of them had spent a minute or two in silent contemplation of the baked goods, “I guess we can try one.”

“Wait!” Jordan cried.  “Your carelessness will be your undoing!”

“Wh-what?” asked Dave.  “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see?  This could all be a trap!”

“Trap?”  Dave sounded quite puzzled.  “They’re just cookies . . .”

“No,” said Jordan in a firm tone.  “You’re missing the point.  It’s not just the cookies.  His whole attitude has changed.  It’s all connected.  He’s been acting nice to us just to lure us into a false sense of security.  Then he puts this box of cookies here, as if it was a gift to make up for all the troublesome ordeals he’s put us through.  Not suspecting any foul play, we eat the cookies, and then we will have played right into his hands.  It is the perfect snare.”

“Hmm,” Dave said thoughtfully.  “He does know that we like cookies.”

“And that we would most likely be unable to restrain ourselves when presented with free ones,” Jordan added.

“I still don’t see what the trap could be, though.”

“Does Jon not seem like the type to resort to poisoning his enemies?”

“Poison?  Come on.  You’ve gotta be kidding.”

“Am I?  So are you willing to try eating one, then?  You think there’s even a possibility that he wouldn’t take this perfect opportunity to destroy us, after all the difficulties we’ve caused for each other?  Do you trust him with your life?”

Dave hesitated.  “Well . . . I guess we can’t even really be sure that it was Jon that put them here.  It could have been anybody.  I’m not going to eat something that just anyone could have left here.”

“A wise choice.”

“But . . . now I’m hungry.”

“Me too.  Should we go out to get something?”

“Alright, but you’re buying, because you’re the one that decided we weren’t going to eat the cookies.”

“If you want to stay here and risk eating a poisoned cookie, be my guest . . .”

Jon chuckled.  He had heard the entire conversation.  Normally his door was closed at all times other than when he was walking through the doorway, but once his exams were over he no longer had any need to seal himself into a cocoon for studying purposes, so he left it open.  He had originally done it to help improve the airflow, but as it turned out there were other benefits as well.  Sure, the walls and floors were thin, but if the door wasn’t open he might not have been able to hear all the details of his roommates’ silliness.

He went downstairs to investigate the mysterious cookie box once he heard them leave the apartment.  Jon knew that he had not left it there, and after hearing his usually greedy roommates convince themselves not to eat the free cookies he was very curious to find out who had.  There was no note on the container itself, nor could he see one anywhere on the counter nearby.  He could not remember anyone having visited the apartment recently, nor could he think of anyone who would have a particular reason to bring cookies for them.  Thinking that there might be a note inside the box that they were too afraid to open, he lifted the lid.

Jon heard a soft SNAP, followed by a brief hissing noise.  After that he was distracted by an unbearably horrible smell that came out of the box.  As he ran back to his room, he thought, “So it was a trap.”

Jon may not have bothered to stick around to look, but as it turned out there was a note inside.  It read:

“Dear Jon.  Congratulations on finishing all your midterms.  But don’t forget who you really are.  Sincerely, your two favorite roommates.

P.S.  Got you.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Cloud replied
“That doesn’t sound too great
And while we’re on the subject
Time to get a few things straight

“I don’t care about your cause
The planet?  Meh, whatever
Will Shinra kill the planet?  Sure
But it’ll take forever

“I’m in this for the money, friend
Mor’listically I roam
And if you just make fun of me
Screw you, I’m going home”

“Fine by me,” the big man said
“Don’t need your ugly mug
Since you love Shinra so damn much
Just go give them a hug”

As Cloud stormed out, Jess cried, “Wait!  Stop!”
Perhaps with thoughts of wooing
“Juss let’im go,” drunk Wedge advised
“Yup.  He know what he doing”

This week’s puzzle:

An embattled administrator struggles to solve a familiar problem while dealing with the ineffectuality of his assistants, the infidelity of his wife, and a man threatening to break his legs.  Even when he resorts to extreme measures and calls the military, his poorly educated enemies still get away.

Last week’s puzzle:

The new guy screws up his first job and experiences trouble at the airport, heart trouble, and car trouble on the next.  He offers to resign but changes his mind because of money troubles.

And the answer is . . . ▼

The Athletics to Huntington came
To defeat the Bostons was their aim
But their hope a leak sprung
When the pitcher Cy Young
Threw the modern day’s first perfect game

“So,” said Dave, as he rose slowly from the couch and backed away a couple of steps.  “It’s come to this.”

“It has,” agreed Jordan.  He followed suit, leaving the two of them standing at opposite ends of the coffee table, fiercely staring each other down.

“Well?” said Dave after a tense couple of silent minutes.  “Why don’t you start it?”

Jordan shook his head gravely.  “This is a sacred rite,” he said.  “It must be started by a neutral party to be legitimate.”

“Fine.”  Dave glanced around the room, and, failing to find someone who could be neutral on the basis of liking them both equally, fell back on the alternative: someone who disliked them equally.  “Hey Jon!” he shouted in the direction of the staircase.

The walls and floors of the apartment were not terribly thick, so they could hear a couple of muffled curse words before the upstairs door swung open.  “What?” Jon called back.

“Could you come down here for a sec?  We need you.”

There was a brief pause, during which Jon calculated the odds of this problem simply going away if he ignored it.  When the answer came out to be somewhere less than zero, he began his usual angry stomp down the stairs.  “This had better be quick,” he grumbled as he entered the living room.  “This ten-page paper I’m working on is due tomorrow, I hope you know.”

“It will only take a moment,” said Jordan.  “We need you to start.”

“Start?” Jon asked, his natural curiosity overcoming his better judgment.  “Start what?”

“The duel,” Dave explained.

Jordan and Dave were locked in that age-old struggle: who would get control of the television?  Dave wanted to watch a movie on the DVD player.  Jordan wanted to watch one of his favorite TV programs.  Being poor college students, of course, they only had the one television set and, even more importantly, the one couch.  Only one man could have his way.  They had tried to come up with a peaceful solution, but in the end all negotiations failed.  The only thing left was to fight it out, each man wielding the emblem (remote control) of the side he was championing.  The last one left standing would rule the TV . . . until the next time the two of them came into conflict.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Jon.  It was hard to decide which was worse: the fact that his roommates were actually going to fight each other over something as trivial as who got to pick what to watch, or that this monumentally foolish waste of time had to involve him.  “This is going to be really loud, isn’t it?  I’ll never get my paper done now.”

“We duel in silence,” said Jordan.

Jon was familiar with the phrase.  They played foosball “in silence,” which generally only ended up being about as loud as a jumbo jet landing next door.  But he had headphones, he had blankets to stuff under the door, he could pretend that the building was vibrating because of an earthquake.  And it wasn’t like things would go any better for him if he refused.  “So you just want me to say ‘En garde’ or something?” he asked resignedly.

“No,” said Dave.  “Do we look French to you?  You have to say ‘Fight,’ but you need to do it in a really cool way.”

“Fight,” Jon said in his most apathetic, tranquilizing tone.

“That’s no good,” said Dave, shaking his head.  “Say it like you’re some ninja kung fu master guy.”

“Fight-oh?” Jon tried.

This must have been good enough, because Jordan immediately lunged at Dave, who only barely managed to deflect the blow.  “You have fun with that,” Jon grumbled, though they were no longer listening.  “And could you at least try not to break anything?” he added as he went back up the stairs.

“I have the advantage,” said Jordan, as he swung his weapon in a broad arc over the table.

“Oh really?” said Dave, as he ducked and rolled around to the back side of the couch.  “How’s that?”

They had said that the fight would take place in silence, but that was only for Jon’s benefit; trash talking was a major component of the battle.  The Television Rite of Succession Duel, as it was known, was a serious affair, to be sure, but nowhere near as serious as a game of foosball, and thus it could be safely interrupted by talk.

“I have the larger weapon,” Jordan answered.  “Greater reach.”  He made a sweeping cut downward and almost caught Dave on the rebound when his arm deflected off the soft back of the couch.

“Hey, guys!” yelled Jon.  “I’m going to the library!  I’ll be back later!”  No one noticed.

“That may be true,” said Dave, “but my weapon is lighter, more nimble.  I can get in several attacks to every one of yours.”  He tried to demonstrate this by spinning around and getting in a few quick jabs, but Jordan retreated while attacking with a grace that belied his size.

The battle raged on for several more minutes, finally ending when Jordan, in a questionable maneuver, body slammed the couch to try to pin Dave.  He lost his weapon, allowing Dave the easy win with a tap on the forehead.  This brought the lifetime record to 23-20-2.

“There,” said Dave, “now we can finally . . . hey!  What’s going on?”

The television was already on and showing a nature program.  The letters “REC” featured prominently in the corner.  “Jon must have set it to record something,” Jordan said hollowly.

“Do you know how to make it stop?” asked Dave, pressing buttons frantically.

Jordan stared at his remote, as if realizing for the first time that it could be used for something other than combat.  “I don’t.”

They gazed at the television, out of their control until Jon came back.  “Truly,” said Dave, “we have been outmaneuvered by a master.”

His fun ruined, Cloud went below
To join up with the others
He really wasn’t wild about
This newfound band of brothers

“There’s Cloud!  There’s Cloud!” cried Jessie
Like she might break into song
Barret only grumbled
“What took you so goddamn long?

“Now you’re here, I’ve got to know
Something I’m wond’ring ‘bout
Was anyone from SOLDIER there
When we took that place out?”

“Sh’yeah right,” Cloud scoffed, “You really
Let this one go to your head
If more like me had been there
You would all be freakin’ dead”

“Dead?” squealed Jess.  “Wait, what?” said Biggs
Said Wedge, “Huh, who’d’a thunk?”
It really was quite obvious
That Wedge and Biggs were drunk

“Puh-leez,” said Barret, “I don’t think
That you’re really all that
Any time you wanna go
Come here; I’ll knock you flat”