Bruce Larson vs. the Germans: Pt. 1

By Brain Englesma

“Bruce, are you ready for the meeting?” asked McBrayer, “Dr. Von Wolfenstein is really excited to share his new ideas for the department, I think it’d be a really good idea to show up on time, you know how punctual Prussians can be.”

Bruce glanced over from his computer, peering at McBrayer through his glasses. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute, just let me finish up with this email,” Bruce replied. “Say, do you want to meet up for lunch after the meeting, it looks like they have bratwurst with sauerkraut and side of spatzle today.”

“Sure thing, that sounds great, I’ll let them know you’re on your way.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out above his head. He had always hated going to these department meetings, nothing ever really got done. But McBrayer was right; this was the first time they had an opportunity to really talk to Dr. Von Wolfenstein, the new department chair. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright big guy, let’s go do this,” he said to himself.

With a hop and a skip he was away.  “Let’s just get this over with,” he kept on thinking to himself. When he got down to the meeting room he was still a couple minutes early. About half the department was already there, Bruce decided to take a chair near the door, right next to McBrayer.

Von Wolfenstein was already there too, he was up at the white board preparing some diagram or another, Bruce couldn’t really make it out, not that he exactly cared.

“Vell I’d like to virst say how thrilled I am to be here with zuch great mindz,” said Von Wolfenstein as soon as everyone got there. “Ze biggest zing I can zay is zat ve should all expect big changes. I expect a lot of out of my department, and I alvays get vat I expect. I run a very tight ship, zer must be order. Vithout order everything valls apart, ja?”

“Yeah,” mumbled about half the staff in attendance, Bruce wasn’t one of them.

“Good. Zer vill be a few new rules around here. Virst things virst, starting immediately ze Politikal Science lounge iz der closed. Next, zer will be no more use of ze third floor vater fountain, it is too inefficient, ve vill all carry water bottles now. Facilities vill be here tomorrow too remove ze vater fountain.”

“Just who does this guy think he is,” Bruce whispered to McBrayer.

“Another zing, you people use der vater closet too much, from now on all staff vill have five bathroom passes für eine semester. Zat vay ve can all focus on work, ja?”

It was at this moment that Von Wolfenstein started to twirl his waxed moustache. Bruce had tried to grow a moustache once, back in his Jersey days.

And finally, ze biggest rule of zem all, I vant no more fraternizing. Zat means no small talk with ze other staff members, no chit chat with ze students, none at all. Ve vill all quietly vork in our office. Zat really seem more efficient, ja?”

This was about all Bruce could handle. He threw he chair back and sprung into the air, “Listen man.”

“No you listen Herr Larson, you vill not talk unless called upon, ja? I zink zat you should just be a good little boy and play by ze new rules.”

“Man, I’ve had about enough of these new rules. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be done,” Bruce responded, grabbing at his shirt. “These rules just don’t make sense. I mean, capping our bathroom visits, what is this, kindergarten? This just isn’t right man. In all my years in academia I’ve never seen rules like this.”

“Vell Herr Larson…”

“It’s Doctor Larson to you Von Wolfenstein.”

“Ja, ja, vatever. Zis is how I did zings at ze University of Leipzig, and zat is one vell run machine now. Doktor Larson, if you vant to talk vith ze new school President about zese rules go ahead, I’ve already spoken to him and he zupports making zings a little bit more efficient too, like ze Prussian army, ja?”

Bruce knew what he had to do. He turned his back to Von Wolfenstein and marched right out of that meeting. No fraternizing, I mean really, what kind of rule was that, he couldn’t believe it for a second. He was going to march right over to Penn Hall, walk into the new President’s office and demand some answers. As he walked out of Glatfelter Hall he noticed a flier he had never seen before on one of the doors, advertising a club he’d never heard of.

“Polka club, since when do we have a polka club on campus?” he asked himself.

As Bruce threw open the doors and walked forward into the cool December air he was shocked at what he saw, was that kid really wearing lederhosen? It also looked like a eerily high amount of kids were playing soccer. He thought he saw one of his former students, good old Robert Egan. He had always been a good boy, Bruce was a big fan.

“Gutentag Profesor Larson,” Robert yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Listen man, why are all you guys playing soccer all the sudden?”

“Fußball you mean Profesor Larson. Well, it’s too early to start practicing the luge or the skeleton, not enough snow yet.”

This was starting to scare Bruce, the growing fascination with all things German on campus was really starting to become too much even for him. Bruce was voted the most easy going professor three years running by the Gettysburgian, or as it was now known, Die Gettysburg Wöchentlichen, but this was something even he couldn’t be easy going about.

As he got closer to Penn Hall he heard someone whisper his name.

“Psst, Professor Larson, we need to talk,” this mystery man said in a hushed tone. He was wearing black slacks with a large wool overcoat, on top his head way ten gallon hat and even though the sky was overcast this man was wearing some thick, black aviator sunglasses. “Come with me, it’s not safe here.”