F3 Dark Days

            People filed in for the department meeting, the usual assortment of long faces combined with tired, though those looks changed to looks of bemusement and head shakes as Alex walked in. He look on the shabby side, his clothing wrinkled and his fake beard was long and scraggly, looking as if one of the members of ZZTop had been in a fight.
His hair was likewise unkempt, but the most disturbing part was his eyes. He kept them wide open, bulging them out and meeting the gaze of everyone in the room. He also wore a sign made out of paper hanging from a bit of string, which pronounced in big, awkward letters “The End is Here!”

            “Darkness descends upon us!” He yelled before the meeting could start. “We have supped and suckled in paradise these past days, but those times are past! Now we suffer the sharp barbs of imps that prick us mightily! Are these muffins for anyone? We now suffer endless torment! Pray for the speedy arrival of our redemption, for that time when we might leave our woes behind us!”

            George Wentworth, department chair of history at Whitmoor, sighed once. “Yes, Alex, we get it. The summer has ended and the fall semester is beginning. Now, can we turn to the agenda?”