(no subject)
Type your cut contents here. Adam Forester was enrolled at John Wilkes Booth University. He had the bizarre ability, Adam that is, not John Wilkes Booth, although I’ve heard he was a fine actor. Let me clarify; Adam Forester had the bizarre ability to suspend things in midair, without the aid of strings or any other apparatus. When strangers saw him suspend things without the aid of strings or any other apparatus, they would say, “You’re a magician.” Adam Forester would then say, “You’re an asshole.” He met a magician once, as a child. The magician called himself “Antonio The Strange.” Adam Forester didn’t like “Antonio The Strange” and subsequently doesn’t like magicians anymore. I never said he wasn’t shallow, mind you.
When Adam Forester’s friends saw him suspend things in midair without the aid of strings or any other apparatus, they giggled. He giggled back. His bizarre ability had become a joke, a sort of party gag for amusement. Only his friends felt this way though. Everyone else thought it was magic. Adam Forester called these people assholes because he didn’t like magicians, and preferred not to be associated with them. He felt much better when people giggled.
The matter at hand has little to do with Adam Forester’s bizarre ability. I just felt like it was something that would hang over my head if I hadn’t let it be known. All things should be out in the air. Forgive me, I’ll stop.
Now, the matter at hand has to do with the administrative building at John Wilkes Booth University. Adam Forester had been dropped from the rosters in all his classes. Upon consulting his professors, he was informed that it was an administrative issue, and there was simply nothing his professors could do as mere educators, aside from educating in his absence.
Initially, Adam Forester intended to take care of the matter at hand with due haste, but upon seeing the administrative building, thick in the marshes of the John Wilkes Booth campus, Adam Forester decided he was far from properly attired. He turned around and walked to the library to check out galoshes, and possibly a machete, and put off dealing with the administrative building until he was properly attired and thoroughly equipped.
About John Wilkes Booth University: The Founders were dead set on the name. I’m not sure why. I’ve never posed the inquiry to a knowing party. I merely speculate about it with my morning coffee. Now because the founders were dead set on the name John Wilkes Booth University, and were a little overzealous in sharing the name, which they thought to be a very fine name, with every group or single individual selling property, the only piece of land available to them and sizable enough to provide ample acreage for John Wilkes Booth University was a swamp. The owner of the swampland also thought the name John Wilkes Booth University was a fine one, and said so quite frequently during the transaction. He wished The Founders the best of luck and asked if they planned to offer night classes. “Only for the part time students,” The Founders said. That information might have been more important at the beginning of the story, instead of discussing Adam Forester’s bizarre ability. My apologies.
Now, at the library, Adam Forester walked through the machine that prevents students from stealing books, swamp gear, and possibly machetes. He went to the check out desk and waited 5 minutes to be noticed by the library staff. A woman walked up to the counter. Her name tag was a number.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes you can.”
“…What can I help you with?” she asked.
“I’d like to check out some galoshes, and possibly a machete,” he replied, “size 11.”
She walked over to a rack and pulled out size 11 galoshes, and then to another rack containing machetes. She placed them on the counter and said, “Can I see your library card?”
At John Wilkes Booth University, there was a card for everything. The student government had petitioned The Administration for just one card that would take care of everything, and after months of ugly formalities, The Administration conceded. That was five years ago.
“Sure,” Adam Forester replied, sliding his library card across the counter to her.
She slid it through a machine on the counter, then said, “I’m sorry, we don’t have any record of you attending this university. It must be an administrative issue.”
He suspended the library card right in front of her face.
“You’re a magician,” she marveled.
Adam Forester grabbed the galoshes and machete and ran towards the doors. “You’re an asshole,” he said. The machine sounded an alarm when Adam Forester ran through it clutching swamp gear and a machete. He wasn’t worried though. It would take 3-5 business days to process a theft report.
About the library at John Wilkes Booth University: The Founders had a spot picked out for it in the initial designing but lacked the funding to build it and then stock it full of books and swamp gear, and possibly machetes. The Founders knew all along they’d need to provide swamp gear for the students. There was never any question about that. The only question was this; what do they do with the only dry spot on the John Wilkes Booth campus until they could afford to erect the library? The answer; turn it into a park. After funding was raised to build the library, and stock it full of books and swamp gear, and possibly machetes, they tore the park down, but kept the name, adding library at the end. The John Wilkes Booth Park Library.
Now, it was getting late, 4:31, and the administrative building closed at 4:37, providing just enough time for the staff to leave before John Wilkes Booth University was legally forced to release the alligators back into the swamps surrounding the building. There wad been an ordeal with P.E.T.A. a few years back. It was an ugly ordeal involving picket lines and megaphones. No one triumphed, not even the alligators. Adam forester decided to there was not enough time to deal with the matter at hand that day, and went back to his apartment, still clutching the galoshes and machete.
As it was still much to early to sleep, and a good 2 hours before the alligators were released onto the rest of the campus (another nasty ordeal involving P.E.T.A. in which no one triumphed). I’m not particularly sure why the campus alligators are released 2 hours after the administrative alligators, so don’t ask. Unless you plan on applying to John Wilkes Booth University the alligators are of little concern to you.
Adam Forester’s apartment complex was owned by John Wilkes Booth University. When he first enrolled, all the freshman were given the option to fill out an off campus housing form. He thought he’d be in an apartment after his first semester, but the off campus housing forms took 2 years to process. This was his first semester to live off campus and John Wilkes Booth University would only let him stay at one of their apartments.
Adam Forester deposited the galoshes and machete in his apartment, and went to a friend’s place for a small party. The student weekend begins on Tuesday at John Wilkes Booth University, and all the corners stores have discounts on beer, much to The Administrations chagrin. He walked into his friend’s apartment to hear free form jazz playing on the stereo and loud conversations. Adam Forester recounted his day.
“I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my class.”
“Dropped?” one of his friends asked.
“Well I’m not on any of the rosters anymore, so, yeah, dropped.”
“Oh. You should check out some galoshes from the library, and possibly a machete,” a different one of his friends said.
“Yeah. I went and the library had no record of me attending this university.”
“So you stole the galoshes and machete?” the first friend asked.
“Yeah.”
“It’ll take 3-5 business days to process a theft report,” the second friend said.
“I know.” Adam Forester suspended someone’s beer above the table. All his friends giggled. He giggled back. He felt much better when people giggled. Adam Forester left at 10:13 and was asleep by 10:22.
Now quick, while Adam Forester is sleeping, I’ll tell you about the administrative building at John Wilkes Booth University. It was a well thought out building and one that required rare materials. Because of this, it was finished right before the John Wilkes Booth Park Library. The architects and materials for the administrative building came from Egypt. The architects were descendants of the men who designed the great pyramids. The stones were probably cousins to the ones that made up the pyramids, but rock genealogy is a confusing subject. The modern architects employed immigrant workers for the manual labor, at slave wages of course. They had wanted to bring their own slaves, but The Founders told them there wasn’t much difference and that it would avoid an ugly ordeal with human rights activists. No one would triumph.
The John Wilkes Booth University Administrative Building lacked the booby traps and curses employed for the pharaohs. The Founders had to beg and plead with the modern architects to leave out booby traps and curses, and ended up paying extra to have their way. It would be cheaper than the law suits and settlements later. Despite lacking booby traps and curses, things the modern architects were very fond of, and administrators too in their own way, the building was erected in a very Egyptian fashion, and anyone who saw it would say, “Reminds me of the great pyramids,” without ever knowing why.
Adam Forest awoke at 7:22 a.m. His alarm clock never left this time. Upon being oriented to John Wilkes Booth University, the incoming freshman were advised to leave t heir alarms on one time. By now, Adam Forest is as programmed as his alarm clock is. They both wake up every day at 7:22.
He got dressed, finishing off by pulling on his stolen galoshes. He subconsciously dressed like Indiana Jones, sans fedora. Adam Forester had seen the movie two weeks earlier. John Wilkes Booth University required the entire student body to view two movies a month, played for free at the stadium every Tuesday and Thursday. The movies were always ten year old action blockbusters. The Bureau of Familiarization and the Bureau of Pacification had a joint meeting on how to lower the vandalism rate and general unrest of the student body. The joint meeting was held on the 6th floor of the administrative building. Two months after the program was carried out, vandalism rates dropped 70%. A blaring success.
Adam Forester set off at 7:49. This was the time that the administrative alligator round up began in the swamps at the administrative building. He arrived there at 8:06, the time that the round up ended, and the front gate to the John Wilkes Booth University Administrative Building gates opened up, and 2 minutes before the draw bridge was lowered.
After the draw bridge was lowered, right on time, Adam Forester passed through the first gate. From here, he pulled out his machete and hacked through the dense foliage and stray vines. The second gate opened up right as he hacked the last bush in his way. From the second gate, he had to follow a narrow trail, fending off snakes and stray tax forms. Stray tax forms cling to galoshes when soaked in the swamp water of the John Wilkes Booth University Administrative Building. They’re as dangerous as the snakes, and provide worse traction. John Wilkes Booth University employed landscapers to tend to the dense foliage, stray vines, and stray tax forms, but they only come once a week at 12:03. They would be coming on the next day.
As Adam Forester entered the front door to the administrative building, he was promptly accosted by a man from behind a window. His name tag was a number.
“You can please deposit your galoshes here, and possibly your machete,” the man said.
“Do I have to?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Ok,” Adam Forester said, handing over his galoshes and machete.
“Thank you. Here’s your receipt. Your parcels will be returned to you upon exiting the administrative building. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He walked 22 feet to the administrative help desk.
“Hi, can you tell me who to see about releasing some holds? I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes, and I’d like to know who to see about getting back on them.”
“So you’re not an administrator?” the woman behind the desk asked Adam Forester.
“No. I’m a student. I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes.”
Ok, well this is the administrative help desk. You need to go outside to the annex, where the student help desk is,” she said. Her name tag was a number.
“Alright, where is that?” Adam Forester had no idea there was an annex.
“Straight through those doors. You’ll see it,” she said.
“Thank you.”
Adam Forester went to those doors, the ones the help desk attendant had indicated. He saw a rope suspension bridge leading to a building on stilts. He thought it best to retrieve his parcels from the man behind the window at the front door, but was informed that he couldn’t.
“Because you’re not technically leaving the administrative building, I can’t return your parcels. University Policy.”
“Thank you.” It was 49 feet to those doors, the ones the help desk attendant had indicated. Crossing the rope suspension bridge, Adam Forester looked less like Indiana Jones now that his galoshes and machete were behind glass. Even without them, he made it to the annex in only moderate peril.
The of the John Wilkes Booth University Administrative Annex is quite simple. In the last days of the John Wilkes Booth University Administrative Building’s construction, The Founders realized they lacked some essential student services, namely, a student help desk. In addition to the student help desk, the machines that print out student access cards, meal cards, library cards, attendance cards, personal I.D. cards, and police I.D. cards were there. The cashier’s office for student employees was also in the annex. So was the councilor. The Founders had no time to lay a foundation in the murkiest part of the swamp, so they had the modern Egyptian architects use a material that was wholly foreign to them for its construction: wood. There was a bridge hidden from plain sight that ran a more direct and safe path straight to the annex that was also built from wood, as well as restricted to administrators. The rope suspension bridge was put up as an after that in response to a number of missing persons search parties that were being fined for trespassing on John Wilkes Booth University property.
Adam Forester opened the front door to the annex and walked 14 feet to the student help desk.
“Hi, can you tell me who to see about releasing some holds? I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes, and I’d like to know who to see about getting back on them.”
“So you’re not an administrator?” the girl behind the desk asked Adam Forester.
“No. I’m a student. I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes.”
“Ok, well this is the student help desk, so you’ve come to the right place. What’s your name and personal I.D. number?” she asked. Her name tag was a number.
“Adam Forester,” she began typing at a computer, “47985.”
After sounds of the computer choking, or maybe coughing, “47985, Forester Adam. You need to go to the Bureau of Academic Enrollment, 2nd floor, room 26D5,” she said.
“My names Adam Forester, not Forester Adam.”
“I know. University Policy,” she told him.
With that he walked 14 feet back to the front door, and out onto the rope suspension bridge to get back to the main administrative building. Inside, he was too busy studying maps and diagrams of the second floor to wonder why the John Wilkes Booth University Park Library had no record of him ever attending the university.
He walked down 5 hallways, past 13 doors, and 98 feet before he arrived at the elevator. The buttons inside the elevator ran from 1 - 8, with half floors in between every whole one, and 2 basement floors that required a basement access card. Basement access cards are printed on the lower basement floor. The only mystery more intriguing than who printed the first one, is how the modern Egyptian architects managed to put two basement floors in the middle of a swamp.
Adam Forester walked into room 26D5, and up to a desk, 9 feet away.
“Hi, I’m here to see someone about releasing some holds? I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes, and . . .”
“You’re in the wrong place,” interrupted a man.
“Is this the Bureau of Academic Enrollment, room 26D5?”
“No, this is the Bureau of Academians for Furthering Enrollment, room 26D5. You want room 31M2, next door,” he said. His name tag was a number.
“Thank you.”
He went to room 31M2, next door and walked up to an almost identical desk as the one in room 26D5, with an almost identical man sitting at it. His name tag was an almost identical number to the almost identical man at the almost identical desk as room 26D5, next door.
“Hi, I’m here to see someone about releasing some holds? I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes, and I’d like to know who to see about getting back on them.”
“What’s your name and personal I.D. number?” the man asked.
“Adam Forester,” he began typing at a computer, “47985.”
After sounds of the computer choking, or maybe coughing, “47985, Forester Adam. It says here that you’ve been dropped from the rosters in all your classes due to administrative reasons,” he said.
“That’s what I thought. Can you get me back on them?”
“Unfortunately I can’t. University Policy. But if you go to the Bureau of Administrative Reasons, 5th floor, room 67K9,” he said, “they can.”
“Thank you.”
Adam forester walked an almost identical 9 feet to get out of room 31M2. He went back to the elevator he took from the first floor. He pressed the button for the 5th floor, but had to stop at every whole and half floor in between for some one to get on. One of the people had not check out galoshes from the John Wilkes Booth Park Library, so the elevator stank of the administrative swamp. The man peeled a tax form off his shoe and began filling it out.
Adam Forester got off at the 5th floor and walked 27 feet to the nearest map. From there he learned that room 67K9 was actually on the 5th ½ floor, so he got back on the elevator and pressed the button for 5th ½.
He left the elevator, which took a strangely long time to go up a half floor, and walked 29 feet to the nearest map. To get to room 67K9, he had to walk down 2 hallways, pass 9 doors, and go 87 feet, according to the map. Adam Forester actually walked down 9 hallways, past 2 doors, and went 102 feet. He opened the door labeled 67K9, Bureau of Administrative Reasons. Inside, cheery posters encouraging teamwork and perseverance, but dissuading independence and drug use covered the walls. He walked 18 feet to a desk.
“Hi, I’m here to see someone about releasing some holds. I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes, and I’d like to see about getting back on them.”
“What’s your name and I.D. number?” a woman asked.
“Adam Forester,” she began typing at a computer, “47985.”
After sounds of the computer choking, or maybe coughing, the woman said, “47985, Forester Adam. You’ve been dropped from the rosters in all your classes for administrative reasons. You’ve come to the right place. It says here,” typing again, the computer choking, or maybe coughing again, “that there’s a letter waiting for you at the Bureau of Internal Mail Delivery.” Her name tag was a number.
“Why didn’t they deliver it?”
“It takes 3-5 business days for a letter to be sent. University Policy. The Bureau of Internal Mail Delivery is on the 4th floor, room 13A3,” she said.
“Thank you.”
About the Bureau of Administrative Reasons; it was built strictly to direct and redirect questions to answers. It was also run strictly, and there was never more information given than was necessary. It was initially name the Bureau of Redirection, but when administrators began showing up with moral qualms, asking if their jobs were right for them, and seeking professional counseling, John Wilkes Booth University decided to change the name.
Adam Forester walked 102 feet back to the swampy elevator only to see that it now had an ‘Out of Order’ tacked to it. He walked 29 feet back to the nearest map and found another elevator on the opposite side of the floor. He walked in and pressed the button for the 4th floor.
The 4th floor is an anomaly in the John Wilkes Booth University Administrative Building. It was originally intended to be a storage floor. No explanation was ever provided as to why the 4th floor was going to be storage. I guess The Founders just asserted its function so plainly that every one figured there was some really good explanation. Now, this floor had no walls, and was slightly reminiscent of an oversized dayroom in a mental hospital. The night of completion of the John Wilkes Booth University Administrative Building turned out to be a night of celebration for the slave wage laborers. After the sun went down, they got gloriously drunk in the administrative swamps, fending off alligators and shot gunning cervesas. After a while, glory turned into insanity, as it has a tendency to do, and the slave wage laborers stumbled around the campus for hours rounding up all the unplanted hedges, which had been purchased by John Wilkes Booth University in bulk in order to detract from the swampiness when pictures were taken for the brochures. So the slave wage laborers hauled a countless number of 6 foot tall hedges into the 4th floor, once gloriously, now insanely drunk, and constructed a hedge maze that easily rivaled the labyrinth in Crete, and then cemented to pots into place. I never said they were unskilled. Well, The Founders were too busy pinching pennies to afford building the library to afford to have them removed, and the slave wage laborers had disappeared that morning, possibly into the mouth of the alligators, so they couldn’t be forced into undoing their drunken masterpiece. The Founders just decided to leave it alone, and change the name to the Bureau of Internal Mail Delivery.
Now Adam Forester did not know that little anecdote about the 4th floor, room 13A3, the only room on the 4th floor, but after the bi-weekly seminars on stoicism, mandatory for all freshman, and dreamed up at the very same joint meeting between the Bureau of Familiarization and the Bureau of Pacification in which the bi-monthly movie viewing program was dreamed up on the on the 6th floor, Adam Forester merely batted an eye, one mind you. The stoicisms seminars had lowered the rate of public outcries 59% and the rate of private crying 47%. Another blaring success.
Adam Forester wandered through the 6 foot hedge maze for 56 minutes, discovering a water fountain and women’s restroom at one dead end, an administrative lounge requiring a special access card (also made in the basement) at another dead end, the control panel for a miraculously intricate irrigation system to keep the hedges from dieing at a third dead end, and a blatantly stolen mail crate with the words ‘Property of the U.S. Postal Service’ written on it containing a menagerie of outdated brochures for John Wilkes Booth University and letters stamped ‘missing.’ After walking 287 feet, he found a desk at the center of the hedge maze.
“Hi, I’m here to see someone about releasing some holds. I’ve been dropped from the rosters in all my classes, and I’d like to see about getting back on them. I was told there was a letter for me here.”
“What’s your name and personal I.D. number?” a man asked.
“Adam Forester,” he began typing at a computer, “47985.”
After sounds of the computer choking, or maybe coughing, “47985, Adam Forester. You’ve been dropped from the rosters in all your classes due to administrative reasons. It says here we have a letter for you. You’ve come to the right place.” He stood up from his desk and disappeared into the hedge maze. His name tag was a number.
After 6 minutes he returned to his desk and sat down. He handed Adam Forester a letter stamped with the seal of John Wilkes Booth University. The seal was made up of the typical masks symbolizing drama, framed by two olive branches. The smiling mask had a tear under the corner of its right eye.
“Could you tell me the directions to get back to the elevator?”
“Take a right, right, left, right, do a u-turn, left, left, left, and right,” he said.
As Adam Forester stood repeating the directions to himself, the man sat staring through him. It took 2 minutes to memorize the directions.
“Thank you.”
Adam Forester followed the man’s directions, but as it turned out, every second turn in the directions was wrong. It took him 1 hour and 22 minutes to get back to the elevator. As he stood in front of it, he opened the letter stamped with the seal of John Wilkes Booth University.
47985 Forester Adam,
You’ve been dropped from the rosters in all your classes due
to administrative reasons, and are, no doubt, currently trying
to get back on them. Proceed with due haste to the 7th floor,
room 31B3, where there is a one time use access card to the
second basement awaiting your retrieval. From there, find
elevator #65, which will allow you to reach the second base-
ment unimpeded by other elevator users. Upon your arrival
we can discuss the matter of your re-enrollment. We are busy
men; do not keep us waiting
Signed,
The Council of Deans at John Wilkes Booth University
Though the letter was closed ‘signed,’ the signatures were stamped.
Adam Forester got back on the elevator and pressed the button for the 7th floor. Once there, he found a map, and proceeded down 3 hallways, past 11 doors, and 51 feet. He entered the room labeled 31B3. The only thing in room 31B3 was a counter with a glass window. The room was as big as a closet. A man walked up from the other side of the glass.
“Hi, I was told there’s a one time access card for the second basement waiting for me here.”
“What’s you name and personal I.D.?” he asked.
“Adam Forester,” he began typing at a computer, “47985.”
After sounds of the computer choking, or maybe coughing, “47985, Forester Adam. You’ve been dropped from the rosters in all your classes due to administrative reasons. It says here we have a one time use access card for the second basement for you. You’ve come to the right place.” He walked off and disappeared into a back hallway. His name tag was a number. After 2 minutes he returned to the glass window. He handed Adam Forester the one time use access card for the second basement.
“Thank you.”
Right outside of room 31B3 was elevator #65. He stepped inside and pressed the button for the second basement. An automated voice said, “Please swipe access card for the second basement,” very rapidly. The elevator traveled twice as fast as the other elevators. Adam Forester stepped out of elevator #65 and was immediately in front of the Council of Deans at John Wilkes Booth University, sitting at black reclining chairs behind a mahogany table. There was a gray fold out chair, 5 feet from the mahogany table.
“47985, Adam Forester, please be seated and we will begin the proceeding.” Their name tags were the particular bureaus they were deans of.
Now, before I recount the proceeding, it should be known that every comma, period, and colon symbolize a different dean speaking. To translate the exact dean speaking every time they traded off would far too complicated, and a but inane.
Adam Forester did as he was told and sat down at the gray fold out chair.
“You’ve been dropped from the rosters in all your classes due to administrative reasons, and are, no doubt, wondering about how to get back on them. First, we will tell you why you were removed from the rosters in all your classes. The reasons are as follows: your first semester here you only studied 3 ½ hours a week, instead of the mandatory 4 hours. You broke up with 3 very nice girls for no reason. 2 of them still are not,” the dean made air quotations, “‘over you.’ You’ve spent 31 hours watching pornography since your enrollment. You’ve masturbated ever Tuesday and Thursday since your second semester, and refrain from washing your hands afterwards on Thursdays. You do not get the best beer deals Wednesdays and Saturdays, electing instead for expensive imported beers, though, much to our chagrin, every store sells domestic beers for cheaper. You miss mandatory movie viewing every other month, which personally offends us, and is in direct violation of University Policy.” Those last two speakers were the deans of the Bureau of Familiarization and the Bureau of Pacification.
“You’ve exhibited 12 cases of the inability to hold your liquor. You’ve ignored 38 persons who have, quite obviously, said ‘hello’ to you while walking around our campus. You’ve smoked 15 joints, snorted 6 grams of cocaine, taken L.S.D. 4 times, and have ingested a toxic rainbow of illicit pharmaceutical drugs, which we would be willing to over look had you gained anything from your experimentations, but you haven’t. You’ve harassed 23 people with your bizarre ability, which we have an extreme dislike for as it is. Your most recent infractions include the following: stealing galoshes and a machete from our Park Library, you lost the receipt for retrieving them, and you took 47 minutes over the average time for exiting the hedge maze.”
Adam Forester had no skipped any of the stoicism seminars, so he sat straight up in the gray folding chair, and had yet to change his expression.
“In light of all these offenses, we, the Council of Deans at John Wilkes Booth University, have decided to suspend your existence upon exiting this room. You can apply for a new existence just as soon as the Bureau of Existence Suspension is free. They’re extremely backed up right now. You can apply in 3-5 business days. University Policy. You’re dismissed 47985, Adam Forester.”
He stood up and walked to the elevator. At the doors he turned around.
“Why did the Park Library not have any record of me having been enrolled here?”
The Council of Deans at John Wilkes Booth University turned its head at one time.
“Administrative error,” it said.
He got on the elevator and got off on the first floor, leaving the stolen galoshes and machete, which he was told he had no voucher for. He walked back through the administrative swamps in a daze, and thoroughly unequipped.
He continued his dazed walk until he found himself in the quad, directly in front of a statue of John Wilkes Booth. He was cast in the height of fashion with his left hand tucked inside his coat like Napoleon. His left leg was resting on a pylon. The former Adam Forester stood staring stoically at John Wilkes Booth. His eyes wandered to the base of the statue, where there was a sentence cast in embossed bronze.
“Sic Semper Tyrannus.”