Edward’s University on his way to a Statics exam? Why his three
roommates lie outright claiming he was kidnapped by a Satanic cult,
all to get money and score with chicks. Don, however, has been
mysteriously transported into outer space where he becomes a pawn of
one Nellie Watt against the Time Lords in a cosmic game being run by
God. Unfortunately for Myron, Slick and Psycho, (Don’s three former
roommates) they have dived into a realm where fools tread. Hilda
Thethia, a practicing Satanist, learns of the ruse and quickly begins
to blackmail the trio. Sadly Myron, Slick and Psycho realize that the
followers of Satan are more wide spread than they could have ever
imagined and none are too happy at having the name of their Dark Lord
besmirched. Meanwhile poor Don is learning the ropes of outer space
in a very hard way. Every mystery he solves only brings more
questions. Will Nellie Watt succeed in her contest against the Time
Lords and go to the Twinkling of Twilights to press the Reset Button?
Will Myron, Slick and Psycho manage to escape from the miserable maze
they created? And most important of all, Why didn’t YOU become a
This is the story of Don Colandri: a fictional character in a fictional universe.
Everything else presented upon these sacred pages is potent gospel truth.
We now join our protagonist in the midst of one of his most distasteful pastimes.
He is not studying. Oh no, studying is far from the excruciating, intense ordeal
happening. Rather, the young college student is cramming. Observe the multiple
beads of sweat gathering on Don’s head, in particular on the glossy area of his
premature receding hairline, where the light shines and shimmers. It is a physical
feature that makes Don Colandri look older than he actually is, not old in a
positive sense, like he could enter into a liquor store and not be asked to present
an ID, but rather in a merciless pathetic way.
If Don Colandri could be mistaken for a tennis star, it would without a doubt
be John McEnroe. Of course, Don couldn’t play tennis like the aforementioned
world champion. But you wouldn’t know that if you sat and listened to Mr.
Colandri. In fact, with frantic persuasion Don would lay down pertinent
statements to make his case. As is his habit, his truths are laced with lies. “I can
serve the ball over one hundred miles an hour,” he says. “My two-hand
backhand is better than most people’s forehand,” he claims. “I would have
played in the Olympics, but I pulled a hamstring,” he laments. In fact, such
falsifications are canted with “hyper” enthusiasm. This leads directly to Don
Colandri’s nickname. He is known by friend and foe alike as Hypo. By the way,
his two-hand backhand is better than most people’s forehands, as everybody who
has never played tennis is part of that which constitutes “most people.”
Words fail me to describe Don Colandri with only one primary adjective.
Some men, for example, are known as handsome. They have perfectly straight
teeth, creating a glistening white smile, with luscious blue eyes that capture all
the wonders of creation and with hair in immaculate style as if painstakingly put
in order strand by strand, all summed up in one label as handsome.
Hypo, however, is not handsome. Rather, he is far from it. In perfect honesty,
and truthful I must be, the young man is quite repugnant. His mouth boasts
crooked teeth, stained yellow from smoking tobacco cigarettes. He has beady
eyes reminiscent of a rat, always shifting left and right as if navigating some
grand maze in an endless quest for a massive hunk of provolone cheese. The
character’s receding hair has been previously mentioned. In addition, these
disloyal tresses were curly and frequently greasy. Yet I am reluctant to simply
describe Don Colandri as repugnant. For it would miss inner values, some of
which contain virtue. It is not that Don Colandri is remotely righteous. Rather,
true to life, he is gray. Not ambiguous in that shade, for as the story proceeds,
specific personality traits shall clearly come forth. Don Colandri, simply put, is
Don Colandri. So let’s just call him Hypo, shall we? Continue reading