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William Sics

The Guru enjoys a wide variety of music, and finds a great deal of pleasure in visiting concerts and special performances. One fine evening he was enjoying a competition of lip-synching groups at the local high school, which the Guru was well acquianted with, and this event was called Air Guitar. Hundreds of students and adults cheered each group to new heights of energy. A clump of young performers finished a skillful rendition of Duran Duran's "Rio" and the lights in the gymnasium faded.

The Guru groped me embarassingly. I hit his hands away and told him to stop it. We Pedagogues sometimes have to deal with the Guru's unwanted affections. His hands grabbed my arm and pulled it towards him. I resisted. He let go of my arm and grabbed the popcorn container from me, glaring with his irises tiny against his rainbow-hued eyes.

"Meh..." he sighed.

Sometimes the Great Guru can be such a baby about things.

Silence fell heavily upon the audience and gym, smashing a coke can. People waited, rarely daring to breathe, the anticipation was so intense. A cloud of smoke began to drift from the stage, soft beams of light streaking through the vapors, dim shapes materializing behind the haze. Calls from the audience blended with the eerie keyboard music as a spotlight illuminated a lone figure playing the off-center stage instrument. The music faded out with the dimming of the spotlight. Whistles rose from the audience as the pause lengthened.

Piercing the silence, a chorus of voices singing, "Shot through the heart and you're to blame. You give love a bad name!" The stage seemed to explode into action, with light and movement dazzling the eyes, the crowd launching into a wild, frenzied roar as the young men danced and played and sang and emulated the musicians of Bon Jovi. The power rippling through the audience astounded and exhilerated those present. Everyone was swept away.

Until the power failed, that is.

A brief moan of disappointemtn began, and quickly ended. Silence. A lone voice cried out "Tastes great!" but was unanswered. Silence continued.

And then, out of the darkness, a lone voice came from the stage, crying out the Word of Wisdom.

"MEH!"

Lights, camera, music, action -- all swung into play again. And there was one face on the stage smiling more than any other. After the performance, the Guru set out to meet this one; he was Adam, and reports of his loyalty to the teachings of MEH had reached the three possibly deaf ears of the Guru. The Guru had rarely seen such an ability to use MEH develop with so little training. The Guru quickly raced to the back stage area, leaving me to fight the crowds without him. Or my popcorn.

Adam waved a farewell to his co-performers. The Guru then stood before him. Adam's mouth opened to gape as he quickly recoqnized the Great MEH. The Guru closed Adam's mouth, looked hard into Adam's eyes, and spoke the Word. At that point, Adam became the newest addition to the ranks of the high teachers of MEH. Pedagogue Adam, however, was on probation until his formal training was completed.

Adam recoiled from the transfer of knowledge which the Guru initiated. A trickle of blood ran down from Adam's lip, turning his t-shirt a deep crimson. Ebony script letters appeared on his shirt spelling out "Adam," and large black block letters covered the reverse side with the word "MEH." Clothed in the Garb and Wisdom of MEH, Adam smiled and went to join his friends, a tear of joy on his cheek.

As the Message and Word grow in use and spread to the four corners of the earthly realm, other Pedagogues are added to the list of the Academy of MEH. The Disciples and the Multitudes have grown beyond the count of the Guru. Of course, we haven't proven that the Guru CAN count, but whenever we say, "Hey, look at all of us now!" he always nods his head up and down, side to side, whispering an approving MEH.

Meh.