Episode 882.7 - The Traffic School of Gor

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Episode 882.7 - The Traffic School of Gor
by Jesterr
Posted: May 2, 2008

Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince, shifted uncomfortably at his desk. The twin swords at his back dug into the desk behind him, even as the swords from the warrior in front of him dug channels in his.

Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince, looked around the room. Everyone had twin swords hanging from his back. Except for that one guy in the first row. He had three swords. Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince wondered if he knew how silly he looked.

He snickered into his hand (in a manly way, of course) Three swords... hee hee hee. Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince, wondered if it would be proper to throw a spitwad at the three-sworded geek.

He was saved from making this important decision by the arrival of the instructor. Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince, was impressed. The instructor was a grizzled veteran of many campaigns. Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince, guessed the man had to be in his twenties!

He only had one sword strapped to his back. Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince, wondered if he had lost the other one somewhere.

The veteran wrote on the board.

"Tarns are really big birdies!"

"This is the most basic rule of Tarnish behavior," he said loudly, "And all of you have forgotten it!" The room started to protest. "That is why you are all here!" he thundered. "Now... the first rule of tarns... do NOT feed them fruit just before you fly over a town! Homeowners are complaining that tarn poo poo is impossible to remove from their roofs. "It also stains slave girls... but there are plenty more where they came from, so no one really cares."

The audience laughed at this witticism.

The instructor turned to the audience, "Now," he said jovially, "What are tarns?"

The students stared up at him blankly.

"C’mon! Tarns are... " He pointed to where he had written it.

"Chalky?" asked one timid voice.

"Close enough!" the instructor roared!

"The next thing we have to discuss is proper vision when flying. It has come to our attention that many of you are flying with your eyes open. Are you NUTS?? These giant birdies carry you way up there. Who would want to watch?"

The three sworded geek started waving his arms in the air. "Sir, Sir, I have a question!"

The instructor looked surprised. "This is a first," he commented.

"Sir," the geek said, "I have been calculating the mass/lift ratio of tarns, and I have come to the conclusion that it is patently impossible for them to fly. Furthermore, any thoughts of tarns carrying a warrior must be immediately dismissed, and as for having a tarn carry both a warrior and a captive is ludicrous to the extreme."

The instructor voiced the comment that ran through the thoughts of every man in the room.

"Boy, you know a lot of big words!"

"Sir, I repeat. Tarns can’t fly!"

The warriors began to yell protests, but the instructor shouted them down. "This warrior has raised some very important questions. If he will join me, I will show him where he made a mistake."

The geek stood up arrogantly. "I never make mistakes." He strutted out the door with the instructor.

The class remained quiet. Only the sound of swords scraping across the desks broke the silence. They all began to stare at the door as the instructor did not reappear. A soft cry was heard outside. It grew rapidly louder as a body fell past the windows.

A few minutes later, the instructor walked back in, alone. "Any more questions?" he asked sharply.

Even the swords were silent.

"I thought not.

"Returning to the reason you are all here: you have all violated at least one rule of tarnsmanship." He began to point. "You tried to land on a sapling. You actually landed in a tar pit. You played, ‘She loves me, She loves me not’ with tarn feathers. And YOU!"

The instructor's hand shook as he pointed at Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince.

"You dared to fly through the front window of the mayor’s house!!"

Ko’Vadis, Warrior Prince, jumped to his feet. "Hey, that wasn’t my fault, man! My father told me to come home stoned!"

The instructor said in a low voice, "I believe he was referring to the home stone. You don’t know your Gor."

"And you don’t know my dad! When he says stoned, he means stoned!"

The instructor looked at the sea of nodding heads before him.

"You all are convinced that it means go home stoned, and not a hunk of rock to build a house on?"

The heads kept nodding.

"You know... it DOES make more sense that way."

"Class dismissed!"

The instructor hesitated at the door.

"Uhhhhhhhhhh, anybody got phony ID, I lost mine."

Every warrior held up a false card.

Outside, the tarns were feasting on street pizza, warrior style. They looked at each other and shrugged.

"Beats me how they think they are the dominant species. At least they are good for a laugh."

The other tarn looked in wonder. "Boy, you know a lot of big words!"

THE END

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