Each day through February 1st, our upcoming application deadline, we’re looking at the members of our faculty…and today it’s fiction professor Rob Roberge. Here, in a short story from his book Working Backwards from the Worst Moment of My Life, you’ll see the particularly skewed world that Rob’s fiction frequents:
At this moment, Tommy Cronin, whose mental capacity has been professionally measured at equal to that of a three year old is being pelted with raw eggs by me and his father who everyone except Tommy calls Pops. Tommy’s one of those carnival ducks at a shooting gallery; every time he’s hit, he turns and marches the other way. The misses, the eggs and garbage, they smack and drip on the wall behind him.
Me and Pops hit him one after the other and he turns all jerky back and forth. This would be Keystone Cops, this would be Fatty Arbuckle, if it weren’t in color and it weren’t real.
And this is Pops’ punishment. Not Pops’ punishment to Tommy, but to me. This is my penance.