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%u00a9Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights ReservedHOW TO LEGALLY QUOTE FROM THIS BOOK58 Jack Fritscher%u201cSome records,%u201d he said as we entered the senior locker room. %u201cThey%u2019re in my trunk.%u201dThe stowed luggage lay banked on racks against the wall opposite the door. In between in green rows stood the lockers, thirteen inches wide, seven feet high, with one shelf and a tie rack inside the door, stuffed with sweaters and jackets and black khakis. We used to be glad when somebody left Misery, emptying a locker, though using more than one locker per student was strictly forbidden by the mimeographed rules.If Father Gunn or Rector Karg had known what happened right before Christmas, they would have wished all the lockers had been filled with clothes: one free afternoon four seniors jumped the best athlete in our class, ripped off his shower robe, and shoved him naked into an empty locker. Everybody thought it a great joke except the seminarian in the locker. He wasn%u2019t released till after supper.%u201cAlbums or singles?%u201d I asked.He pulled the records from his footlocker, shuffling through an Oklahoma soundtrack, Mantovani%u2019s Music from the Movies, and three Presley singles.%u201cGunn will never pass the Elvis records,%u201d I said.%u201cI%u2019ll play those when he%u2019s sure not to barge in. He okayed Mantovani and Oklahoma, except for a couple of songs like %u2018Everything%u2019s up to Date in Kansas City,%u2019 that he made me promise to skip when I played the score in the recreation room.%u201dThe door banged open and he slipped the Presley singles into his trunk. Porky Puhl confronted us.%u201cHeil, Hierarch!%u201d I said.Porky didn%u2019t laugh. Before vacation, in a class meeting, we had sent money to a missionary he didn%u2019t approve. South America, not Africa, he had said, was where our first charitable allegiance should be. The Spanish Church was more deserving than the African Church. He called us immature and threatened to resign from the hierarchy of the class. We all stamped our feet and laughed for days. %u201cHierarchy!%u201d%u201cA little contraband, I see,%u201d Porky said.%u201cRecords.%u201d Dempsey closed his trunk. %u201cGunn approved them.%u201d%u201cSo did I,%u201d Porky said.%u201cWhat? Approve them, or bring some contraband back?%u201d I asked.He looked hurt, as if he had been slapped trying to equalize something. He shifted his hierarchy across his fat shoulders, intending to %u201cmaintain it on our level%u201d was how he%u2019d say it. He never recovered from Father Gunn