Peabody's Ride

When Mr. Peabody fell down the library steps (and fell is much too inaccurate a word--sledded is more descriptive of the occurrence), he was carrying binders full of women’s resumes from the People’s Republic of China.

As the assistant to the assistant to the coach of the University of Paddle’s ping-pong team, it was his job to screen applicants for the coaching position of the women’s team--Paddle University had a main coach for their ping-pong program overall, and coaches for the men’s and women’s teams respectively.  The women’s coach had recently resigned, feeling she had served long enough.  So, at the direction of the assistant to the main coach, Peabody was told to recruit directly from China, and that’s what he did.

He wasn’t paying attention.  On a bright sunny morning with students and faculty alike going to and fro, ascending and descending the library steps in the course of routine Paddle U. business, Peabody exited the library and stood in the shadows of the huge marble pillars.  He opened a binder and began perusing the pages, looking over one resume after another.  He bumped shoulders with a fresh-faced, lithe blonde beauty, said, “excuse me,” and she just smiled.  He proceeded slowly, not walking exactly, and not really taking steps either, but moving nonetheless, much like a sand dune inches along due to the unrelenting siroccos that lash the Mediterranean.

He was aware of voices, and laughter, the rush and the overlapping conversation and the morning sun.  Still, despite all that, he reached the edge of the steps, black handrails on each side, and went over the edge, and where thoughtful perusing had been a peaceful interlude, it now exploded like a mortar burst, as binders went flying and Peabody went down unceremoniously.  But this fall had a twist, an added dimension, like a scene cut out of the Twilight Zone, or perhaps one deleted from the Keystone Cops.  Because Peabody didn’t just fall on the steps, he kept going!

Somehow he managed to hold onto a binder, clutching it securely; perhaps it was some survival instinct to cushion the fall onto hard concrete.  I really don’t know.  But what I do know is that Peabody went zooming down the steps like a little toboggan--the binder acting as such, slipping atop the concrete steps faster and faster with a wailing Peabody aboard.

People began dropping books as Peabody sped by.  There were astonished cries, a few hurrahs, two screams and one drawn-out good-gracious.  One poor woman lost her high heel shoe (she did manage to stay vertical), whereas further on down the steps a group of freshmen were scattered like bowling pins as Peabody barreled through.  To this day it lives on in university lore as the day Peabody parted the students.

I think Peabody was able to ride the library steps in such an unorthodox fashion because he was so thin, so lightweight, so slight of stature.  Yet it remains without question that he somehow managed to position that binder just right--in such a way so he was balanced perfectly--becoming the University of Paddle’s first library sled, garnering high marks, too, from the astonished onlookers who refer to it often.

When he reached the bottom, he was none the worse for wear, save for a few scrapes on the meaty sides of his hands.  Luckily for him, he held the binder is such a way that it alone contacted the concrete steps; his hands were brushing along, spared by a few millimeters’ clearance.  Having small hands, along with possessing dexterity, also helped.

His ride over, Peabody stood up and staggered around in a tight circle as if a heavy chain was attached to his shoulder, his glasses half-off and his hair looking like a piece of tumbleweed.  Those who reached him first all agreed he was completely wide-eyed.  In fact, they said his eyes were mostly white.  Some said they looked like ping-pong balls.   

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