Part 1, Episode 20: Digging Deep

Still stinging from the harsh words from Camilla, Conrad returned to his suite and found Freddie sitting in the dark, staring at a blank television screen.

“What’s wrong, Freddie,” Conrad asked, suspecting he already knew the answer.

“He passed away a couple of hours ago,” Freddie said somberly, referring to the demise of Father Ferret.

“I’m really sorry buddy,” Conrad said, trying to console his friend. “I know he meant a lot to you.”

“He sure did,” Freddie said, still staring at the television. “He sure did.” Freddie then snapped out of his semi-trance and turned to Conrad. “How did your meeting go?” He asked.

“Well, I got what I wanted in the agreement, but it was still tough,” Conrad replied.

“Did you and she exchange words?” Freddie asked.

“Yeah,” Conrad sighed. “If you could make money as a ‘bitch-for-hire’ she’d get rich.”

Conrad joined Freddie on the couch and they both sat silent for a few moments.

“Look, this isn’t going to do either one of us any good,” Conrad finally said. “Let’s go out, throw down a couple of brewskis, and get some stuff off our chests.”

Freddie pondered that suggestion for a moment, then stood up and said, “You know what, you’re right! Let’s get out of here.”

Conrad drove them to “Chaps and Spurs” which, on a Wednesday night, was fairly quiet. Most of the customers there that evening were focused on the baseball playoffs, which held little interest for either Conrad or Freddie. Would the Yankees win again? Neither one cared.

They sat down in a corner booth and began sipping their first beers. Conrad then said to Freddie, “Tell me about Father Ferret. Gretchen filled me in on who he was to the school, but why do, er, did you feel so close to him?”

After contemplating that question for a few moments, Freddie began. “I guess she told you that he mentored me for a year before he went off to law school.”

“Yeah, I know that part,” Conrad replied.

“Well, Mr. Farnsworth knew my family from some business dealings he had with them, and he had suggested that I come to Farnsworth U to pursue my education. He told my folks he’d look after me. Not long after I began my freshman year, he called me in to his office and suggested that I take Father Ferret’s spot as the face of the school.”

Conrad again noticed that Freddie never referred to himself as a mascot, and correctly so. He was much more than that to Farnsworth. He was more like an ambassador in the community.

“I thought he was nuts,” Freddie continued. “I was real introverted, believe it or not, and just couldn’t see myself jumping around at the games, much less making the kind of public appearances that Father Ferret did. Mr. Farnsworth wouldn’t take no for an answer, though, and he can be a real persuasive dude. He assured me that Father Ferret would work with me during my first year, and that I wouldn’t just be thrown into it.”

“So you two really connected that year, I gather,” Conrad interjected.

“Oh, it was much more than that,” Freddie said. “As he got to know me, he found a person buried inside me that I had only dreamed of being. Once I put on this suit, I was free to find out who I really was. It turns out, I’m a hell of a guy!” Freddie said, extending his arms for effect.

Conrad grinned, smiling for the first time that evening. Freddie continued, “Father Ferret showed me how to come out of the shell, no, more like a prison that I had built around myself. He showed me that, inside this suit, I could start over and remake myself into the person I really wanted to be but was always steered away from.”

“What do you mean, steered away from,” Conrad asked.

“My parents were overprotective. No one I knew growing up really encouraged me to do much of anything. I wasn’t part of any group of friends, which is like a living death for a teenager. So I just sort of drifted off by myself, marking time.”

“Then you put on the ferret suit, and everything changed,” Conrad added.

“Absolutely!” Freddie agreed. “It wasn’t overnight, but by the end of that first year I became the furry gigolo you know and love today. Once I got out and around people, I realized I really loved it. Not only that, but for the first time in my life, other people really enjoyed having me around. I love feeding off that energy! If it wasn’t for Mr. Farnsworth pushing me into it and Father Ferret showing me the way, it never would have happened. This life I have now, and that I’ve had for over seven years, I owe to both of them, and now one of them is gone.”

Freddie’s voice trailed off, and the two sat quietly for a few minutes. Freddie then turned to Conrad and asked, “So, tell me about your wife. What happened?”

This was the first time that Freddie had ever asked about his personal life outside of Farnsworth in much depth, but after the insight he had just shared himself, Conrad felt obligated to dig deep and reciprocate. He let out a deep sigh and then began his own exposition.

“I guess if I had to point to one thing, it’s that we didn’t know each other well enough when we got married,” Conrad began. “We were both in our early 30’s when he got hitched and looking to start a family sooner rather than later. We were both more focused on that goal rather than understanding the other things we wanted from a relationship and eventually a marriage.”

“So why did the wheels start coming off the cart?” Freddie inquired.

“First, let me be clear,” Conrad replied. “Part of this is my fault. I was so focused on building my career, on proving my parents wrong, on shutting up that nagging voice in my head, that I didn’t save enough energy to be a very good husband, and certainly not much of a father.”
“Your folks didn’t think you would be successful?” Freddie asked. “How is that possible with someone like you?”

“They thought I could make something out of myself,” Conrad said, “but just not in sports. They didn’t think it was a ‘serious’ way to make a living, and that I certainly couldn’t support a family working in sports administration. My mom, in particular, wanted me to be an accountant. Can you believe that? It was safe and secure, she told me. Business will always need accountants. You’re so good with numbers, she told me.”

“So why didn’t you go into accounting?” Freddie asked.

“Well, about a week after I graduated high school,” Conrad continued, “my dad died. He just keeled over in his truck one day from a heart attack. He smoked two packs of cigarettes a day, something I make a point of not doing myself. Anyway, I realized that life was too short to get pigeon holed into a career I didn’t particularly want to pursue. I knew from the time I was in junior high school I wanted to work in sports and, after seeing first hand how quickly life could end, I was determined I was gong to spend mine doing something I enjoyed. My mother never accepted the fact that I went against her advice and held it against me until the day she died two years ago.”

“Wow, that’s tough man,” Freddie said. “Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t look very comfortable.”

“I’ve been having spasms under my left shoulder blade,” Conrad replied. “I must have slept on it wrong. So anyway I had spent several years going in and out of relationships when a co-worker at EAPU introduced me to Camilla at a party. He was her cousin and knew that, like me, she was looking to settle down. We hit it off right away. She was hot, and looking into her eyes stirred a rumbling in my loins I had previously reserved for the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. We dated for about six months before I proposed to her on New Year’s Eve. We got married the following May. It was all going to be happily ever after.”


“Was it ever good?” Freddie asked.

“Oh yeah,” Conrad quickly confirmed. “We had a lot of fun when we were together, and we really got into some wild monkey lovin’ underneath the sheets. Damn she was hot!”

Conrad drifted off for a moment, then Freddie asked, “so what changed things.”

“We waited a year, then tried to get pregnant. I knocked her up pretty quick, but she miscarried. After another year she got pregnant again, then miscarried. Finally, on the third try we had Connie, who was a beautiful, healthy little baby girl.

Despite that, Camilla was never the same after the miscarriages. We didn’t have fun that much anymore, even before Connie came into the picture. We went from making steaming passionate love to having ritualistic sex so I could try and plant my seed inside her. We both retreated away from each other and into our work. The more successful she became as a research scientist at Johns Hopkins, the more she resented the time I spent working at EAPU. Just like my mom, she did not treat that as a serious career path, and the more time I spent there, the less she respected me.”

“Boy, that’s got to be tough to live with someone who doesn’t respect you,” Freddie says.

“You’ve got that right, my furry friend,” Conrad replied. “She claims that losing my job at EAPU was the final straw for her, but I think she had been looking for an excuse to bail out and run back to mommy and daddy in San Diego for a while. She hated Baltimore and complained all the time about the environment she was trying to bring Connie up in. She may have tolerated our marriage a while longer if I had agreed to get a job out there, but I think that would have only put a band-aid on things. Eventually, our marriage would have bled to death.”

“What are you going to do about Connie,” Freddie asked.

“I don’t see much I can do,” Conrad said with a tone of resignation. “Camilla is right when she says I wasn’t much of a father. How could I be when I was seldom there? Ultimately, she’s better off with her mother and grandparents in San Diego. I just hope I can get another chance at being a father and try to do it right this time.”


A memorial service for Father Ferret was held at the chapel on the grounds of Farnsworth University, per his request before passing on. The service was scheduled to begin at 3:00 pm, but when Conrad and Gretchen arrived from the office at 2:30, all of the pews were completely filled. Classes had been cancelled that afternoon, and it appeared that most of the staff and many of the students had taken advantage of the opportunity to attend.

Conrad had noticed his shoulder continue to worsen, which now made standing in one place for any period of time uncomfortable to the point of being excruciating. He was determined to gut it out, though, and not be the only member of the Farnsworth Athletic Department not to show for the funeral.

It turned out Julius Rosencrantz was Jewish, so the service was officiated by Rabbi Ira Lewis from Midville’s B’nai Israel temple. It was easy to pick out Julius’ family, since they were the only group seated together wearing yarmulkes. Everyone else in attendance appeared to be a gentile.

As the pain in his shoulder worsened, Conrad found himself struggling to follow the details of the service. He did catch most of Mr. Farnsworth’s remarks, where he spoke of how Julius had almost single-handedly been responsible for developing school spirit at Farnsworth.

The Old Man talked about how Julius had taken the role of mascot and expanded it beyond his wildest dreams, and as a result was as responsible for the school becoming an integral part of the Midville community. He also shared stories of former and current students who had met Father Ferret when they were youngsters (he was called that even then, he did not want to be known as just ‘The Ferret) and thought about how cool it might be to attend Farnsworth when they were old enough. He also announced plans to rededicate the ferret statue outside Farnsworth Forum in Julius’s name.

Mr. Farnsworth’s comments were followed by the formal eulogy given by Freddie. Conrad strained to see if Freddie had a yarmulke on, but it appeared he did not. While the Old Man had put Father Ferret in the proper historical context from a “big picture” point of view, Freddie focused on the direct relationship between him and Julius.

Freddie spoke emotionally but eloquently, a feat that, according to what he had previously told Conrad, he would have been unlikely to do before being taken under Julius’ wing. Freddie’s comments were not quite as revealing as what he had shared with Conrad at Chaps and Spurs, but they still served to portray Julius as a kind and giving man who was responsible for turning Freddie’s life around.

As Freddie closed his remarks, he took out a black armband, strapped it around his left arm, and asked all Farnsworth athletes to wear one for the balance of the school year. Although Conrad wished Freddie had ran that by him first, he made a mental note to issue a department-wide e-mail supporting that request and turning it into policy.
The service concluded with the Farnsworth chorus giving a beautiful rendition of “Amazing Grace,” then the crowd slowly filed out. Conrad slowly made his way to the front of the chapel like the proverbial salmon swimming upstream to see Freddie. Finally reaching his friend, Conrad put his hand on his shoulder and said, “Excellent job, Freddie. I’m sure Father Ferret would have been deeply touched by your words.”

“Thanks, Conrad,” Freddie said. “That was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“Well, you did great,” Conrad added. “Where are you heading?”

“The Rosencratz family invited me to the wake, so I’m going to spend some time with them,” Freddie said.

“Good,” Conrad said. “I’ll see you whenever you get home.”

Conrad had planned on taking in the end of either the field hockey or women’s soccer games, but instead walked around campus lost in his thoughts. He had never met Father Ferret, but just watching such an outpouring of grief was very unsettling. It made the dozen or so people that gathered for his mother’s funeral seem even paltrier in contrast.

Like most people, Conrad had never dealt with death very well. Although he had been brought up in a catholic home, his faith had waned greatly over the years, making the thoughts of death even more troubling by diminishing the focus on a happy afterlife. He had lost so much over these past few weeks, he thought, and he was damned tired of it. As his shoulder continued to throb, he just felt very, very tired.

Part 1, Episode 19: "Comings and Goings"

Father Ferret continued to hover near death for a couple of days, and a noticeable pall had descended upon the Farnsworth campus. Conrad finally called Gretchen in to his office and asked, “What is the deal with Father Ferret?”

“What do you mean,” she replied.

‘I understand that he was the first mascot here,” Conrad said, “but the way people are acting, it’s like he founded the place. I’d expect that if the Old Man were sick, but not a former mascot.”

“Oh, so no one’s told you his story yet, huh? Meow,” Gretchen said.

“No,” Conrad said.

“Well, if you’ve got a few minutes I can fill you in,” Gretchen offered.

“Please do,” Conrad said. “I’m all ears.”

“Sure,” Gretchen began. “Julius Rosencrantz, AKA Father Ferret, enrolled as a student here when Farnsworth opened its doors eleven years ago. He was studying pre-law.”

“Can I insert a joke here?” Conrad said snidely.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Gretchen admonished. “We didn’t have any sports teams that first year but plans were underway to start an athletic program in the second year. Mr. Farnsworth held a contest among the students to find the best possible mascot for the school.”

“So Fighting Ferrets wasn’t his brainstorm?” Conrad said.

“He added the fighting part, but no, ferrets came about as a result of the contest,” Gretchen said. “There were at least a couple hundred entries, and they pretty well ran the gamut from traditional, you know, lions, tigers and bears…”

“Oh my!” Conrad interrupted.

Gretchen glared at her boss for a moment and began barking. “Are you going to let me finish this?” she asked with a very peeved tone.

Conrad sat back in his chair, hunched down like an admonished little boy. “I’m sorry, Gretchen,” he said. “Please continue.”

Gretchen stopped barking and resumed telling the story. “As I was saying, the entries into the mascot contest ranged from the traditional to the downright weird. One guy came up with “The Fire.”

“That doesn’t seem so strange,” Conrad said.

“Not on the surface,” Gretchen agreed, “but it turns out he was just a pyromaniac who was looking for an excuse to set things on fire. He nearly succeeded in burning down the gymnasium during tryouts. Anyway, it came down to ferrets and aardvarks.”

Conrad stared at Gretchen for a moment. “You’ve got to be joking,” he said. “What kind of drugs was the committee on?”

“There was no committee,” Gretchen said. “It was solely up to Mr. Farnsworth. He was going through a divorce at the time, I think it was his fourth, I lose track, and we weren’t quite sure what medication he was taking.”

“Aardvark?” Conrad asked.

“Mr. Farnsworth obviously liked the idea of having a unique mascot,” Gretchen said. “He considered aardvark because that would put our school first alphabetically on any listing of college mascots. So anyway, it came down to Julius’ ferret and Andy Aaron’s aardvark.”

“Was Andy any relation to Hank Aaron,” Conrad asked, unable to stop himself from yet another smart-ass remark.

“Funny you should ask that,” Gretchen replied. “Andy told everyone he was a distant cousin of Hanks, but no one really believed him. That ultimately hurt his chances of gaining Mr. Farnsworth’s approval.”

“Why did people doubt him?” Conrad asked.

“Mainly because Andy was white,” she said. ‘Yes, it was still possible he was related, but no one really bought it.”

“So what finally swung Mr. Farnsworth to pick the ferret,” Conrad asked.

“It was really more like he picked Julius than his falling in love with the ferret,”
Gretchen said. “Julius somehow got a ferret suit made for him, one that looks a lot like what Freddie wears now.

“Any idea why he wanted to be a ferret?” Conrad asked.

“I think it was something about him having one for a pet as a child. The story goes that he really loved it, but it got run over by a pet supplies truck.”

“Can’t escape the irony there,” Conrad interrupted.

“Anyway,” Gretchen said after a deep sigh, “There was something about him that was hard to describe. He really seemed like the embodiment of what school spirit should be about. Julius was the most enthusiastic person anyone could remember every being around. Mr. Farnsworth felt he would be the perfect person to become the face of the school.”

“So he went all around town like Freddie does now?” Conrad asked.

“Even more so, if you can believe it,” Gretchen said. “In a very short time, a public event wasn’t worth the effort to put it on if Father Ferret wasn’t there. He did everything from new building dedications to birthday parties. He was everywhere, and everyone loved him.”

“Was he called ‘Father Ferret’ then?” Conrad asked.

“Yes, he was,” Gretchen replied. “From the start, Julius was simply magical with little kids. That’s where he’s a bit different than Freddie, who is more comfortable with other adults. Julius loved kids, and they loved him right back. There are students on campus now that enrolled here in large part because they remember Father Ferret playing with them or hugging them or just carrying on like a nut and as a result they grew up wanting to come to the school with the Ferret.”

“Wow, talk about a genius stroke of public relations,” Conrad said.

“It sure was, and it’s a tradition that Freddie carries on very well now,” Gretchen said. “We’ve needed to keep the focus on the Ferret given the lack of success our sports teams have had and the occasional indiscretion from Mr. Farnsworth.”

“Well, did Julius mentor Freddie?” Conrad asked.

“He sure did,” Gretchen said. “Julius was the Ferret for two years, but he knew he would never make it into law school without giving his studies full focus during his final year. He told Mr. Farnsworth, who then found Freddie. Julius taught Freddie the ropes for his first year, then left Freddie on his own when he went off to law school.”

“Did Freddie try out for the spot like Julius did?” Conrad asked.

“I don’t really know how Mr. Farnsworth came up with Freddie,” Gretchen admitted. “It was like all of a sudden he just appeared on campus in the ferret suit. No one I know of has ever seen him without it or even knows what his name was. He’s just always been Freddie Ferret.”

That was true enough, Conrad thought. Freddie didn’t just play the role of the ferret; he WAS the ferret.


That evening, Conrad entered his suite following his stop at Galaxy Burger shortly after Freddie had returned from another visit to Father Ferret, who was still in intensive care at Johns Hopkins. “Hey Freddie,” Conrad greeted him. “You want to go out and throw down a few and try to get your mind off things tonight?”

“I’m not sure I would be very good company,” Freddie said.

“That’s okay, I can be charming enough for both of us,” Conrad told his friend.
Freddie smiled at hearing the familiar line. While he was considering the invitation, Conrad’s cell phone rang. John Smith was on the other end of the call.

“Hey boss, are you in the middle of anything?” John said excitedly.

“Not really,” Conrad asked, fearing there was another disaster for him to clean up. “What’s up?”

“I think I’ve found your bowling team,” John said.

“You found an entire team?” Conrad asked incredulously.

“Yep,” John assured him. “Can you come down to Town Square Lanes and check them out?”

“Yeah, why not,” Conrad said. “They are prospective students, aren’t they?”

“Yes sir,” John said. “They’re going to Midville Community College this semester.”

“That’s encouraging,” Conrad replied. “I’ll be right down.”

After hanging up the phone, Conrad turned to Freddie and asked, “You want to come along with me and check out some prospective bowlers?”

Freddie did not immediately jump at the opportunity.

“They’re young ladies, you know,” Conrad said.

“Let’s roll,” Freddie said as he jumped to his feet.


Conrad and Freddie arrived at the Town Square Lanes on the other side of the tracks. No really, they had to cross railroad tracks to get there. Anyway, Freddie’s arrival caused quite a stir, and Midville’s favorite celebrity passed through the throng of bowlers hugging the ladies and shaking the men’s hands. They found John Smith waiting for them near the far end of the bowling center, waving at them like he was trying to land a plane.

“Alright John, here we are,” Conrad began, “where’s the bowlers.”

John pointed to the pair of lanes immediately in front of them. There, wearing identical pink bowling shirts with “Midville Beauty Center” in black script on the back were five identical looking girls.

Conrad and Freddie stood and stared for a moment, and Conrad felt his jaw drop slightly. John, pleased with the dramatic impact, said “Gentlemen, I give you the McNulty quintuplets; Jan, Jean, Jen, Joan, and June.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Conrad finally managed to get out. He looked up at the scores being flashed overhead and saw that the quints were destroying their competition, “Barney’s Bail Bonds.” “What kind of averages are they carrying?” he asked.

“They’re all in the 180’s,” John replied. “They’ve been bowling since they were eight, and they’ve got a bunch of trophies they won along the way in different age-group tournaments. They might be pros somewhere down the line.”

“Are they interested in a college education?” Conrad asked.

“Oh yeah,” John replied. “They’re going to Midville Community College now because that’s all they can afford. They’re all working part-time to pay for it while they still live at home.”

“This would really be something, quints on the same college team,” Conrad said, considering the possibility of the Ferrets’ sports program actually receiving some positive recognition in the media.

“That’s what I thought, sir,” John said. “Look, they’re finishing up their final game. I asked them to stay around afterward so you could meet them.”

“Sounds good,” Conrad said. “Freddie, let’s grab a seat and watch them finish up.”

Conrad, Freddie, and John sat together and watched the McNulty quints finish up a sweep in their match. Conrad couldn’t help but notice how cute they were. All five girls were blonde, between 5’ 5” and 5’ 7” with average builds but, unlike so many young girls these days, they had curves.

Conrad’s mind raced, imagining their pictures on calendars, posters on the walls of teenage boys all around Midville. He imagined them posing in a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue in the section where they featured attractive athletes. Look out, Anna Kournakova, here come the McNulty quints!

The girls finished up their match and, seeing Freddie sitting with the others in the snack bar, squealed with excitement and rushed to meet him. “Oooh, Freddie, you’re so cute!” Jan said. Or was it Jean? Maybe it was June. Could have been Jen. Perhaps it was Joan. Could we please have them wear name tags if they’re going to be in this story, would that be too much to ask?


By the time 7:00 came around the next evening, Conrad was wrung out. It had been a fairly quiet day at work and John Smith was moving along full steam ahead on drawing up the paperwork to offer financial-aid scholarships to the McNulty quintuplets, pending NCAA certification of the Farnsworth bowling team as a varsity sport. There was no change in Father Ferret’s condition, although his time on earth still appeared short.

Conrad had been bothered all day by muscle spasms below his left shoulder blade, but what had really weighed on his mind was the meeting scheduled with Camilla that night. He no longer thought of her as his wife, rather, as his future ex-wife. She had bailed out on him and took their daughter 3,000 miles away from him, effectively extinguishing the final dying embers of their marriage.

What Conrad had found out since then was that, despite the pain his marriage had brought him, he still desired female companionship. How else could he rationally explain his attraction to the stupid football coach just because he was dressed in drag? He still had trouble thinking about that little escapade.

It would be several more months before a divorce could be finalized, but Conrad did not want to wait that long to restart the romantic portion of his life. It may be all for naught, he may not find anyone that tickled his fancy, that he truly wanted to be with, but he knew he wanted the door to be open just in case.

That was the mindset with which he approached this meeting with Camilla and their attorneys at the Baltimore firm of Rabinowitz, Fine, and Sheckel, Camilla’s representatives. “That controlling bitch would have to have ‘home court advantage,’ wouldn’t she,” he thought. She hadn’t even bothered to bring little Connie cross-country with her, making it clear she wanted to spend as little time in Conrad’s presence as humanly possible. They had agreed to meet to tie up any remaining loose ends and establish the framework for their divorce settlement, making the final hearing after the required 12-month separation a mere formality.

When Conrad arrived, Camilla and both attorneys were already in place. He had
under estimated the flow of traffic along Interstate 70, and it was nearly 7:15 when he entered the meeting room. Camilla, impatient as usual, was visibly annoyed but said nothing. Not hello, how are you, nothing. Conrad’s attorney, Myron Lebowitz, began the meeting by reviewing the terms he and Camilla’s representative, Ira Finkelstein, had negotiated.

Conrad was pleased that there were no surprises as they went through the arrangements. Their house would be offered to the current renter after his one-year lease expired. If he declined the option, it would be put on the market with Conrad and Camilla splitting the receipts. There would be no alimony and, since Camilla made significantly more money than Conrad, he would be liable for only a token child support payment. In exchange for that, Camilla was not obligated to bring Connie back to the east coast at any set time. Conrad would have to take the initiative and bear the expense of traveling to California to visit her.

The final item discussed did catch Conrad by surprise. Camilla had requested a stipulation that both parties were free to have any and all levels of involvement with members of the opposite sex short of marriage during the separation period without penalty. He was all too happy to accept this, and the meeting ended with all parties signing the document and the attorneys leaving the room.
Conrad stood up and stared across the table at Camilla, who was quickly gathering her belongings and ready to make a quick exit. “So you’ve found someone else, huh?” he asked.

“Why do you say that,” Camilla responded coldly.

“You wouldn’t have agreed to that clause if it wasn’t in your interest,” Conrad said. “You’d leave me hanging if you didn’t already have your next victim picked out.”

“He’s a good man who meets my needs,” Camilla said, still not looking at Conrad. “He adores Connie, and she has taken to him very well.”

“You didn’t waste much time finding a replacement,” Conrad said.

Camilla looked sternly into Conrad’s eyes and said, “The position has been vacant for some time. I finally had the opportunity to fill it with a qualified person.”

Conrad was reeling internally from that vicious blow, but was determined not to show it. “Goodbye, Camilla.”

She turned and headed out the door. Without looking back, she said, “Goodbye, Conrad.”

Part 1, Episode 18: Four F-The Man, The Myth, The Moron

From the telltale mooing he heard outside his office, Conrad knew trouble was approaching. Gretchen stuck her head in the door and said, “Hazel Broomhouse is here to see you, Conrad.”

That sounded harmless enough, he thought, although he wondered what a Hazel Broomhouse was and why she wanted to see him. “What is she here for?” he asked.

“Something about a bowling team?” Gretchen replied, sounding puzzled.

“Oh, okay,” Conrad said. “We’re looking at starting a varsity bowling team next season.”

Gretchen hesitated for a minute, looked out towards the hall, then back at Conrad. “You said a varsity team, right, not one we’re sponsoring at a local bowling alley? Moo!”

“Sure. We’re not going to fool with sponsoring anyone,” Conrad replied. “This is strictly varsity. Mr. Farnsworth told Four F to start doing some recruiting and send prospects in to see me.”

“Ooookay. I’ll send her in. Moo!” Gretchen said.

Moments later, a 50-ish lady who reminded Conrad of a less-attractive Shelly Winters strolled in to his office. Conrad stared at her until Hazel broke the silence. “I’m here for the bowling team,” she announced.

‘Okay,” Conrad said. “Have a seat.” He pondered how to handle what seemed to be another Four F foul up. Finally, he said to Hazel, “You realize that this is a varsity team.”

Hazel just stared back at him. After a moment, Conrad continued, “That means you would have to be a student here and enrolled in at least 12 credit hours to be eligible.”

Hazel’s face scrunched up, obviously unhappy with this news. “That Farnsworth fella didn’t say nothin’ about takin’ no classes,” she barked. “He said you folks were puttin’ together a bowling team and he thought I was good enough to be on it. I carry a 187 average in the Tuesday morning league, you know!”

“That’s a very strong average, Miss Broomhouse,” Conrad said. “I’m sure you’re good enough to make any team around here. The problem is, however, that Four F, er, I mean Fred Farnsworth neglected to mention that our team was only for students. I’m sorry you wasted a trip in here.”

“You mean you people ain’t sponsorin’ no bowling team!” Hazel barked.

“No, I’m afraid we’re not,” Conrad said. “We just get involved in activities with students.”

“You folks have money. It wouldn’t kill you to spend a few bucks and sponsor a team, you know!” Hazel said with great indignation.

“I suppose we could afford it,” Conrad said in his best conciliatory tone, “but we’ve got our hands full with the student activities. We just can’t take anything else on.”

“Yeah, I heard someone blew up your stadium a while back,” Hazel said with a sneer, “you’d probably find some way to louse this up, too.”

“You might be right,” Conrad said, wondering if she might actually be correct. “Again, I apologize for the misunderstanding.” He rose to signal the end of the meeting, and was relieved when Hazel took the hint.

“You people need to get your act together,” she said as she huffed out of Conrad’s office. “How can you run a school when you can’t even get straight what you’re doin’ with a bowling team?” Walking by Gretchen’s desk, Hazel heard the mooing. “What’s your problem, sister?” she asked Gretchen in an accusatory manner. Gretchen said, “I’m sorry,” and then began whimpering like a hurt puppy.

Conrad, still shaking his head in amazement, walked to his doorway and motioned Gretchen to come in. She took a seat in front of his desk while Conrad walked back to his chair. “Another fine mess that moron got us into,” he began.
“I assume he didn’t bother telling anyone they needed to enroll in classes to be our bowling team. Woof!” Gretchen said.

“That’s right,” Conrad confirmed. “Unfortunately, I think we can expect more visitors like lovely Hazel. If anyone calls to set up an appointment, tell them the situation. I’ll handle anyone who gets really irate.”

“What if somebody just shows up like she did? Woof!” Gretchen asked.

“I’d better see them. If I’m not around, page me,” Conrad replied.

They sat quietly for a moment, Conrad stewing about yet again having to clean up after Four F. “We’ve got to find something constructive for this clown to do!” he exclaimed.

“Well, I know he sure can talk his way into anything,” Gretchen offered. “He can talk others into doing stuff too. He’s like a used car salesman! Grrrrrr!”

Conrad leapt out of his seat and slammed his palm on the desk. “That’s it! Sales! Let him go out and schmooze all the time, that’s all he’s good at anyway.”

Gretchen momentarily whimpered after Conrad’s burst of excitement startled her, then gathered herself and asked, “What would he sell?”

“Farnsworth athletics! He can go out to businesses large and small, visit groups, encourage them to buy sponsorships or blocks of tickets,” Conrad said, pumping his fist with excitement.

“Do we really need much of that?” Gretchen asked.

“Not right now, no,” he answered. “If we aspire to go big time at some point though, which Mr. Farnsworth has clearly stated is his vision for Ferret sports, then we’ll need more cash inflow. I know his pockets are deep, but I’m sure there’s a limit to how much he’ll put into sports. We’ll need to supplement that with sponsors and support from the business community, and I think Four F might actually be able to go out and get it.”

“You know, Conrad, you just might be right!” Gretchen said, beginning to share her boss’ excitement.

“And as an extra added bonus,” Conrad added, “it will keep him off campus and out of our hair most of the time. What’s not to love?”

“That last part is really appealing,” Gretchen concurred.

“Okay then, call Kate and see when I can get in to the Old Man and pitch it. I want to do it ASAP before Four F causes more trouble for us.”

Almost as if he were a puppy that had been summoned for dinner, Four F stuck his head in the door. “Hey guys, how are ya!” he bellowed.

“We’re doing okay, Fred,” Conrad replied wearily.

“Have any of my bowling recruits come in yet?” he asked.

“I just met one of them,” Conrad said. “I’m afraid she didn’t work out.”

“Why not?” Four F said with astonishment. “They were all terrific bowlers.”

“I’m sure they were,” Conrad said, “but the lady I just talked to didn’t seem to grasp the part about having to be a student here.”

“Well geez, anyone would know that,” Four F said in a condescending tone.

“Apparently not,” Conrad countered. “I’ve got a hunch we’re going to run into that same problem with the rest of your so-called recruits.”

“Go figure,” Four F said, not acknowledging any contribution to this problem. “Good help is so hard to find these days.”

“Tell me about it!” Conrad exclaimed. “What brings you in today?” Conrad asked, trying to move him along.

“Oh yeah, I was looking for my briefcase,” Four F replied.

Conrad quickly flashed back to the previous Saturday. Two weeks of relative peace and quiet had passed since the disaster at Civil War day, and he had joined Troy Flemstone for his return to the broadcast booth for the Ferret’s football game vs. Aspiring Novelists College. The debris from the cannon blast had been cleaned up, and a large tarp was covering the hole in the right corner of the press box, protecting the equipment and announcers from the elements.

As expected, Farnsworth was being taken out to the woodshed by the Writers, losing 30-3 late in the third quarter, when Conrad felt a tap on his shoulder during a stoppage in play. He turned around and was surprised to see “Sarge” Bennett, a Gulf War hero who was now the head of security at Farnsworth University.

“Conrad, we’ve got a situation here,” Sarge said.

“Can it wait?” Conrad said, “We’re getting ready to go back on the air.”

“No!” Sarge barked. “You need to come with me right now.”

Troy looked up with concern, and Conrad told him, “Just keep the play-by-play going until there’s a reason not to. I’ll hopefully be back soon.” Troy nodded, and Conrad walked down the press box stairs with Sarge.

After reaching the exit to the press box, Sarge led Conrad around the corner and pointed at a briefcase propped up against the structure. It was a deep, dark brown, and the covering looked like real leather. “That object has been sitting there unattended since after halftime. We’re concerned it might contain explosives,” Sarge told Conrad.

“Explosives!” Conrad shouted, understandably sensitive regarding that notion. “Geez, did someone declare war against us?”

“I don’t know about that, Conrad,” Sarge said, “but we’re at the point where we need to treat this as a suspicious package.”

“Okay, what should we do?” Conrad asked while he wondered why the briefcase looked vaguely familiar.

“I’ve already called in the bomb squad,” Sarge said, “and I think we should evacuate the area as a precaution.”

“I understand,” Conrad said, wanting to insure there were no additions to the list of casualties at Ferret sporting events this season. “I’ll get on it.”

Conrad then hustled out to the Farnsworth sideline and, during a stoppage in play, attracted the attention of the referee.

“We’ve got a bomb threat,” Conrad said quickly, “and we need to clear the stadium. Quickly, let’s get the head coaches together.”

The referee, fighting the urge to freak out, motioned for both coaches to join him and Conrad at midfield. When they arrived, Conrad spoke. “Look, we’ve got a bomb threat here at the stadium. The bomb squad is on its way. We need to clear the field.”

“What about finishing the game?” the Writers’ coach asked.

“I think we all know how it’s going to turn out,” Conrad said. “Let’s just call it here and make sure everyone’s safe. Just get your teams into the locker room and have them stay there until we give you the all clear.”

Both coaches nodded and proceeded to take their teams off the field. Conrad then grabbed a bullhorn from one of the cheerleaders and addressed the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please. We have a bomb threat here at the stadium. Please exit the stands at either end of the field quickly but calmly. The game will not be resumed. Thank you and we are sorry for the inconvenience.”

Conrad then rushed to the press box and ran up the stairs. Troy had been describing the departure of the team and fans, but had not wanted to make a specific announcement until talking with Conrad. Huffing and puffing after his dash up the stairs, Conrad told Troy, “Just announce there is a bomb threat, everyone is being safely evacuated, the game is final, and then sign off and get the hell out of here!”

Troy dutifully broadcast exactly what Conrad had told him to and signed off. Conrad waited to help his still gimpy friend down the stairs. “Whath the ruth?” Troy athked, er asked.

“Because there’s a suspicious package down by the bottom of the stairs,” Conrad replied.

“Hey, I’m going to want hatherdouth duty pay,” Troy said only half jokingly.

“I hear you, pal,” Conrad said. “Just keep moving down the stairs and let’s get clear of this.”

Ultimately, everyone cleared the field safely while the package rested against the press box intact. As a final resolution, the bomb squad blew it up in a controlled explosion and found that it was merely a briefcase full of papers. While waiting for word from Sarge Bennett, Conrad and Troy wondered what would blow up at their next home game.

“What does your briefcase look like?” Conrad asked Four F.

“It’s dark brown with a leather exterior,” Four F said. “It’s sweet, but I’m more concerned about someone finding it and going through the contents.”

“What was in it?” Conrad asked.

“Some magazines,” Four F replied.

“Magazines?” Conrad asked.

“Yeah, ones that I wouldn’t want anyone else to find, if you know what I mean,” Four F said with a wink.

Great, Conrad thought, we stopped a football game and evacuated the fans to blow up a briefcase of porn. Just when it looked like things at Farnsworth couldn’t get any stranger, they did.

“You have to go now,” Conrad told Four F.

“Okay, but let me know if you see it,” Four F said. “Remember, no peeking.”
“I’ll give him such a peek,” Conrad said through clenched teeth within earshot of Gretchen.”

“Woof! Woof!” she said.

“I couldn’t’ agree more,” Conrad said.


That afternoon, Conrad did one of his periodic sweeps of the athletic facilities. The red-hot Ferrets’ field hockey team, winners of eight games in a row, was facing conference foe Southwestern Eastern Shore University and, by the time Conrad arrived, had a comfortable 3-0 lead in the third quarter. He noticed that Coach Cage was wearing only a polo shirt, shorts, and shoes with no socks. This seemed to be an odd outfit for a crisp October afternoon where the temperature was struggling to stay above 50 degrees and a steady breeze was blowing across the field. While noticing Cage was obviously cold yet refusing to don a jacket, this did not register with Conrad as being particularly strange given what he had seen at Farnsworth in less than two months on the job.

Conrad stayed long enough to see the Ferrets stretch their lead to 5-0, made his evening stop at Galaxy Burger, then headed home. Freddie was on the phone when he entered, and when Conrad’s wave hello was not acknowledged he sat down and started channel surfing on the television. Freddie completed his phone call shortly thereafter and sat on the couch, looking out into space.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Conrad asked.

“It’s Father Ferret,” Freddie said, still off in the distance.

“Something wrong, I assume?” Conrad followed up.

“Yeah,” Freddie replied, “he got hit by a Petco truck.”

Unfortunately, the first thing that flashed into Conrad’s mind was the classic scene in the old Mary Tyler Moore show when Chuckles the Clown met his demise when, dressed as a giant peanut, an elephant had tried to eat him.

Seeing how upset Freddie was, Conrad doubted he would see the ironic humor here, so he bit down on his tongue so hard he felt tears trickle down his cheeks. Finally, he managed to say, “That’s terrible, Freddie,” without laughing.

“Yeah, they don’t know if he’s going to make it,” Freddie said dejectedly.

“Anything I can do for you?” Conrad said, now over his potential giggle fit.

“Can we just hang out tonight?” Freddie said.

“Sure, man,” Conrad replied. “How about watching the Monday Night Countdown show to get ready for the Cowboys-Eagles game?”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Freddie said.

They sat together as the game stretched past midnight, and Conrad was amazed at how much comfort a person could find in just having a friend to sit with and not having to face a problem alone.