The most alarming behaviour I have ever witnessed

I may not have advertised the fact, but neither have I hid the truth that I am a small bitter man. The big picture does not concern me. The grand sentences that describe history are ignored. I focus on the dots that dot the “i”s and the crosses that cross the “t”s. What I am saying is that the following issue is the perfect vehicle to waste my time and keep me un-preoccupied with everything else that is important in my life. After all, something needs to be done!
What occurred today for me to once more stoop (I have a bad back so stooping is a big deal) and pick up the banner of justice for the down trodden and abused? Let me tell.
The problem is that I don’t always see them coming. They usually showed up on campus in pairs. Most of the time they were present for regular maintenance which helped mask the timing of the dastardly deed that obsessed them today. If only I had spotted them earlier. These co-workers are usually gregarious and may in fact pause to indulge me in a short chit chat before faithfully performing their duties. Alternatively, on days such as today, they slink around in the shadows with a devilish smug smile and maniacally lit eyes. It would have taken only a small glimpse of their facial countenance to have alerted me that: “There is going to be a surprise fire drill today!!”
November picked herself up by the rubber boots and ushered herself in as a dreary rain soaked day. The inclemency that evacuees had to endure today seemed to transform the aforementioned manic expressions of facilities staff to a Josef Mengele dementia. “Why do the fire drills have to be secret?” I demanded. Any attempt to reply to my query only produced unintelligible chortling. Damn sadists!
This has been going on for years. The fire bell sounds and one must set down what you are working on and join the flock of hallway sheep pouring from the classrooms. The administration staff has donned bright red emergency vests and like border collies drive us out of the buildings and into the adjoining fields. They double back and nip at the heels of stragglers and force them to amass with the rest of their dazed and confused companions. Although I have used ovine qualities to describe the hordes that are fleeing the fake fire, these are woolless creatures that must now pathetically huddle to try and offset the chilling drizzle. (Some years it has been near blizzard conditions with unforgiving biting cold winds.) The drill completes and we are let back into the building. I don’t know what is worse, the pain caused by my icicle outer ears or the string of epithets and curses that assaults my inner ears. Staff and students bleat their dismay at the ignominy of their lot in life. Let us look at the carnage.
Gone are the brilliant lectures teetering on the edge of the last few words that will drive the point forever home.
Gone are the student presentations, choked off in mid stream and dispersed to the air currents by the cooling fan of the projector.
Gone are the leisurely snacks in the lunchroom. The last delicious morsel rammed down a reluctant throat.
Gone is my pen. Where did I put it?
And somewhere on campus, some poor sap had finally found the nerve to confess his affection to his doe eyed classmate. That moment in time has been shattered, their lives irreversibly changed.
For what?
A whimsical test.
Surely we can be told that a drill is coming. We can prepare for proper attire to face what ever Mother Nature throws at us. We can time our work so that things that need completion are completed. And, if this were the case, the next time the fire bell goes off without warning – we will all get out of the building as fast as we can.