Sam's Umbrella

The accumulated refuse, once the proud containers of a wealth of non-perishable food, now mere jetsam on the sea of PhD, scattered across the tops of the desks. Two figures poked out of the filth, hunched over a pair of computers, tapping morosely with the regularity of a metronome. The smell, for those unaccustomed to an office in the center of a building, was overpowering. The two figures, however, noticed it as little as a fish notices water.

The time for the last ferry to leave the university was looming and Sam, a lithe man with questionable facial hair, not unlike Bret from Flight of the Conchords, was determined to disregard his mounting fear and guilt. Despite having to give a talk to the entire mathematics department the following day, he valiantly watched YouTube video after YouTube video. His companion, Chris, admired his bravado in the face of what he would consider an overwhelming compulsion to at least begin writing the talk.

Chris stared into the cold luminescence of his monitor, slowly cultivating a measured loathing of Latex, despite being entirely unable to consider life without it. This dependent hatred, appropriately scored by the Lord of the Rings soundtrack (which Chris found helped to make writing mathematics bearable), was halted by Sam's interjection.

"Hey Chris," he said, "check this out." Sam had adopted what Chris liked to call his 'whimsical' face, and this no doubt portended doom.

Sam hurled his umbrella into the air. As it reached the zenith of its graceful parabola it opened suddenly, and floated safely down to the ground.

"So that talk's going well then, Sam?" asked Chris, again placing the headphones over his ears, not caring for whatever answer Sam chose to give.

"I think, instead of starting my talk, I want to do that out the window," replied Sam, standing, retrieving the umbrella and striding purposefully to the level 5 windows just outside of their office. Chris remained at his computer, reconciling himself to the obvious and imminent loss of the umbrella.

"You don't want to see it?" Sam called to Chris from out in the hallway.

"Not really," returned Chris.

There was a slight pause, and then Chris heard "Uh, you're probably going to want to see now."

"What did you do?"

"It's stuck on the ledge."

Sure enough, Sam had opened to umbrella too soon, and it had become stuck just beyond his reach, below the window. Sam, or rather his inner mathematician, who should have been writing a talk, but had just been tasked with retrieving the misplaced umbrella, sprang into action.

Sam at first suggested to Chris that they maneuver an eight meter long PVC pipe out of the window. After it becoming clear to both parties that the hallway was a mere two meters across the pipe was returned to its original position. Sam then remembered that the cord on his electric fan was of an adequate length.

Sam then embarked upon what was to be the most grave game of skill tester of his life. Dangling the electric fan out of the window he managed to remove the umbrella from the level four awning, and have it land on the level three one, well beyond the reach of the electrical fan cord. Dejected and broken, Sam pulled the fan back through the window.

Chris and Sam returned to the office in silence, mourning the loss of the umbrella.

"You know," began Sam, "next time I do that, I'm going to wait until later to press the button on the umbrella."