Sigma Rex Sigma (01-13-2011)

(With An Excerpt From: “Through the Gates of the Silver Key” (1934) by Lovecraft and E. Hoffmann Price)

“All right gentlemen, let’s take it from the top.”

The Tyrannosaurus threw down its triangle and bit deep into the wind section, tearing through most of its members. Flutes dangled from its huge jaws, gore spilling across the deck of the majestic ship. The conductor threw down his baton in disgust.

“No, no, no! Eating the wind section breaks up the harmony! You’ll never finish this class!”

The brontosaurus brought its head close to the king of carnivores. “Man, we’re never going to get back into the frat now! The musical was our last chance to get our grades up!”

The tyrannosaurus spat out the last bit of unchewed oboe, looking the brontosaurus in the eye. “Don’t even worry about the grades, man. I got a dude on the inside feeding us test answers for the exams. We’ll pass for a joke!”

“I dunno, the dean’s been breathing down our necks lately. He’ll catch us if he sees all of us suddenly passing our tests.”

“Wanna bet?”

The tyrannosaurus spent the better part of the next two hours reaching for its pockets, struggling to find a position where it could reach them with its tiny arms. It eventually produced a small remote control, waving it in the brontosaur’s face. “I got an Ornithomimus to make this for me. Nerd called it a Meteor Attractor, said it would pull a rock down from space right down on top of that crusty ol’ Dean’s house. Bang! No more worries for Sigma Rex Sigma.”

The brontosaurus raised one eye. “Uh, your plan is to kill the Dean?”

The tyrannosaurus thought about it for a second, scratching its chin. “Yeah, I guess it is. When you say it, it sounds so cold-blooded, though, man. When I say it, it sounds funny.”

“You never once thought that there might be a problem in bringing a huge meteor crashing down here, did you?”

“Look, do I bust you when you talk about being a fighter pilot/jazz musician? No. I let you have your fun.”

The brontosaurus had something to say, but a roaring engine cut him off. Looking over the side, they saw some sort of tentacled horror drawing up from the ocean, hundreds of snapping maws biting at the air covering its sides. Bloodshot eyes looked around in no particular direction as a pair of huge claws withdrew from the sea, bashing against the current. Its front end hopped in and out of the water as its stereo pumped out the same tune they’d been hearing coming from I’a Theta Gamma for the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Yog-Sothoth stuck its head out of a hatch, his captain’s hat set at a jaunty angle. Shub-niggurath poked up beside him, a barely there bikini covering her up. She giggled, pulling the hat onto her head as Yog-Sothoth waved at them. “Well, if it isn’t the Rex boys. Don’t you think you’re a little out of your league trying to beat us at the academic decathlon?”

The tyrannosaurus leaned far over the side, shaking his tiny fist. “Come a little closer and say that, why don’t you?”

Yog-Sothoth shrugged as the head of Shub-Niggurath dropped down below deck. “Guys, I’m not merely a thing of one Space-Time continuum, but allied to the ultimate animating essence of existence’s whole unbounded sweep — the last, utter sweep which has no confines and which outreaches fancy and mathematics alike. Posturing at me isn’t going to help you win.”

Another hatch opened up, Azathoth’s mad form spewing out of it. “That’s right, losers. Once we beat your sorry behinds all over the university, you’ll have to beg to be in Omega Hobo Delta.”

“Oh, and before I forget…” He held up a handful of pages with his will alone. “I hope these weren’t the test answers your boys were looking for.”

At that, he cast them into the sea, their gibbering seacraft sending out a wave that soaked the dinosaurs as they sped away. The tyrannosaurus scowled as he watched them go.

“Hand me that ukulele. We’ve got work to do.”