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The passion of the SEABASS

Apparently TOMMY SEABASS’s last column was not very popular in certain circles of the Duke community. TOMMY SEABASS does not understand why there was outrage from here to Bombay, though, as the column was intended to be helpful. The questions were clearly labeled ones NOT to ask Coach K at Tuesday’s Q&A, and TOMMY SEABASS was proud to see that none were asked. TOMMY SEABASS is more than willing to take heat if it means saving 10 of his fellow Crazies from public humiliation.

Even so, TOMMY SEABASS hadn’t seen such bloodlust on campus since the Physics Professor who feeds the cats was nearly torn to shreds after running out of Meow Mix two years ago. In particular, message boards were abuzz with homers spouting threats against TOMMY SEABASS.

The outrage over last week’s column actually put TOMMY SEABASS’s life in jeopardy. Last Tuesday, TOMMY SEABASS was grabbing another bottle of Olde English when he noticed that a note had been stuck underneath it.

“Mr. SEABASS,” it said, “I can protect you. Meet me in the woods behind the Dean Dome. —A friend”

TOMMY SEABASS was conflicted about turning to a Tar Heel for help, but he realized that desperate times call for desperate measures. Rather nervous, TOMMY SEABASS took the Robertson bus to Chapel Hill and walked towards the rendezvous point.

TOMMY SEABASS realized he had been led into a trap immediately upon arrival. Standing before him was Steve Wojciechowski, holding a chained leash attached to a snarling silver fox. TOMMY SEABASS turned to run, but Wojo’s minion was quickly upon him. The silver fox gnawed at his ankle for a few seconds, but TOMMY SEABASS kicked him aside and sprinted toward the Dome.

Upon entering the arena, TOMMY SEABASS was relieved to find UNC coach Roy Williams.

“Coach, you gotta help me!,” said TOMMY SEABASS.

“Well, shucks, SEABASS, I liked that dang ol’ column of yours so much, I reckon I could help you.”

“Thanks Coach, this really means a lot to me,” replied TOMMY SEABASS. That statement actually proved to be a near-fatal mistake on TOMMY SEABASS’s part, for once Roy-Will realized the gravity of the situation, equivalent to that of, say, a late-round NCAA Tournament game, Roy’s knees buckled and he was reduced to a quivering heap. Fortunately, Roy’s choke-job didn’t matter, as Wojciechowski stopped his pursuit after spotting a half-empty bottle of his Grandpa’s cough medicine in the grass.

Relieved, TOMMY SEABASS went home and rested up for the big game. Everything went well, and he was able to secure a quality fourth-row seat directly below the Crazy Towel Guy’s mail order bride. TOMMY SEABASS thought the highlight of the game was the return of Speedo Guy. He hadn’t seen that much hair on one person since the last full moon, when walk-on Ross Perkins, a.k.a. “The Manimal” as nicknamed by his teammates, turned into a perversely nymphomaniacal werewolf.

(You probably think TOMMY SEABASS is joking. If you don’t believe him, do a Google search for “Karen Dior’s Manimal”.)

TOMMY SEABASS was cheering wildly and sweating profusely at the game; he needed some A.C. This was actually TOMMY SEABASS’s first game of the season, and he was glad to see one of the cheerleaders got a new pair of shoes.

After the suspenseful Duke victory, TOMMY SEABASS rushed out to the quad and attempted to uproot the $40,000 Spanish benches planted around campus.

“Hell yeah Seabass, get that Euro-trash out of here,” one particularly inspired onlooker shouted as TOMMY SEABASS cocked his axe.

“Hold up there sport,” said a goofy yet familiar voice. It was President Brodhead. “You can’t destroy those. They’re going to be my legacy here. I’ve ordered five more for my $800,000 rec room. Boy, how about that Sean May?” added the jovial President, “He must be on the ‘Fatkins’ Diet. Hahaha.”

“Whatever,” said a disappointed TOMMY SEABASS.

Brodhead’s obstruction turned out to be inconsequential. The fire department ended up rushing onto the quad a few minutes after the fire started and turned hoses onto it and the crowd. As TOMMY SEABASS watched the spraying, he was delighted to see it quickly turn into the first annual Duke wet T-shirt contest. However, the buxom winner was not a beautiful blonde, but the “Number 1 Fan” and DSG president Pasha Majdi. Disgusted, he turned away from the ashes and headed back to his dorm.

TOMMY SEABASS wonders how much longer the McRib will be around. The date of its departure is supposed to be kept secret, so please keep this information out of the hands of Head Line Monitor Steve Rawson.

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