The day my mirth stood still.

This is a continuation of “Tales of the Western Flyer“ below)

“NO,” I told myself out loud. And then to the other students passing by I said, “I will not sleep until I find him, and I also swear not to eat until he is found!” They did not understand, but I paid no mind to them. I was quickened; I roused my innards and girded my intellect. Then I thought, “Well, at least for three hours I will not sleep. And I will not eat for one hour--not until he is found!”
I stirred up my comrades--the men of Gott Hall 1st floor--and we quickly began our important search.
Speeding around in desperate scans of the campus bike racks, we presently had no success in our search. Seven o’clock turned to eight o’clock, eight o‘clock into eight-fifteen, and eight-fifteen into seven seconds past eight-fifteen. If the bike was to be found, it was certainly not this way. Instadicatively, (a new word which I would soon gain the credit for coining) I was overdue for a meal, and I needed meat-energy to keep my wits about me.
I called campus security. This attempt was unfruitful for their incompetence. The conversation went thus:
“SBU security, how can I help you--”
“Where is my bike!” I demanded.
A pause…
“Well, is your bike missing, or--”
“You fool! We’ve no time for this. If I’m calling about my missing bike, why would you ask if it’s missing?”
“Well, are--”
“Never mind that now. Listen, chap: it’s name is the Western Flyer, but it will also respond to its initials, WTF, it is approximately 1.2 meters in height, 22 kilograms in mass, it has rugged action, and,”
“Listen, are you an SBU student?”
Obviously I was getting nowhere. Angrily, I hung up the phone, not before saying, “You ineffectual kittiwake! Mark Grabowski shall hear of this!”
I returned to the dorm, tired and frustrated, and said to the new office worker, whom I had not met before, “Woe upon woe has befallen me!” And I laid my head upon her shoulder and began to cry.