Vestibule Plowden-Wardlow approached with her usual look of concern muddled with arrogance. She had hesitated once she saw Colm advancing towards the table, but her determination overwhelmed her common sense.
Vestibule:(approaching) Ansel!
I was thrown by her use of my given name; It was an interesting opening gambit.
Turdling: . . . Giselle.
I hesitated. I had referred to her as Vestibule for so long I stumbled in an attempt to remember her real name. If she hadn’t been aware of the nickname known campus wide, Colm’s arrival settled the issue.
Colm: Morning Vestibule.
Vestibule: Professor Wilshire.
Colm: (Sitting and tucking into plate of eggs #1) Lovely spread up there, why don’t you go get some eggs.
Vestibule: I’m on a cleanse.
Colm: Of your soul?
Vestibule: It must be a welcome change for you, seeing the morning.
Colm: It’s alright. Bit of a risk for you isn’t it, being exposed to sunlight.
Enough of that, she must have thought, I’ll try deputizing Turdling.
Vestibule: Ansel, I’ve been meaning to email you. We’re forming a working group, a offshoot of the president’s zero-sum initiative, I think your insights would be of real benefit.
Turdling: What is this?
Vestibule: It’s been incentivized by administrative fiat.
Turdling: Well, that’s, you know. . .
Colm: I’d love to jump in Vestibule, but my fucking podcast eats up most of my time.
Colm filled his mouth with bacon and began chewing with the gusto of a three year old securely strapped in a chair.
The Observations of A.E. Turdling 
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