"We need a sacrificial lamb, Al," mused Gregory Daniels, Dean of Discipline at Northsouthern University, as he tapped the eraser of a pencil on the edge of his desk.

"A what?" replied Al Raplonski, the Dean's right-hand stooge, stirring a styrofoam cup full of coffee. It was eight a.m. on a Sunday morning, the day after Daniels' ugly run-in with football star Ricky Reynolds, and it was clear the Dean hadn't gotten much sleep. Which would make him bitchy, and would put Al at the top of his shit-upon list. Al could sense some shit heading toward his balding head even as he stirred, so he wasn't too excited about their current meeting.

"Al, I stole the gun of a university police officer and used it to fire at the tires of a car bearing students. As a direct result of my actions, their car drove off the road and into a ditch, sending that pisshead brat Reynolds flying head-first into a windshield. I've called the hospital. He's recovering fine--he'll only miss one game at the most--but he's got selective amnesia. And his parents are making waves. This won't just disappear."

"We could use the cop," said Al. "His word against yours. Who do you think the review board's gonna believe?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," smirked the Dean. "I had hoped we would be on the same page."

"I'm even readin' ahead, Dean."

"Good. Then I need you to take care of this as soon as possible. Today. We've got to file a few reports with the President's office. Do you have that list of perps from the party?"

"It's on my desk, Dean," said Al, with a smirk on his face. He loved busting perps and two big perps like Stephen Craig and Alexis Montgomery would be awful fun to bust.

"Well, let's get those review boards together. Starting Monday. But don't hit Alexis Montgomery or Stephen Craig yet. I want to see how things shake out next week."

"All right," sighed Al, slumping slightly in his chair, deflated by his loss.

"There's also another police incident to examine, involving a shooting of a student at a phone booth, but that's far more clear-cut."

"Student?" Al looked up from his coffee, slightly worried. Attempted homicide for Ricky Reynolds was one thing...the kid was a prick football hero who got lots of trim, and as a fat toady who got no trim, Al hated him for it. But killing random students was taking things a step too far. "What's the deal with that?"

Daniels looked down at the pencil he was tapping for a moment, scanning back in his brain over his mysterious relationship with the unknown informant who had been attacked last night by the campus cops, acting under his indirect command. Best to leave this secret in the bag, hidden from Al's prying, pudgy nose.

"Nothing. Just a mix-up...a few flesh wounds, they thought the victim was somebody else. Get me the sergeant on line one. We have a few lies to spread."

Alexis Montgomery wiped the sleep from her eyes and glanced over her meeting notes one last time before tapping a toy gavel on the table. Immediately her three companions ended their small talk and focused their attention on her.

"Let's get this over with so that I can go home and pass out," she said.

"Wild party," said Ricardo Garcia, less a question than a statement. He was the executive vice-president of the Associated Student Senate, and also a power-hungry manipulator who had narrowly missed winning the top spot on the Senate in last spring's election. It was his idea to have the damn meeting at 9 a.m. on a Sunday, thought Alexis. He should be shot for that.

"Yeah," smiled Alexis, gritting her teeth beneath tightly closed lips. "Rough party."

"Anything we should know about?"

"Not really, Ricardo, everything went fine," replied Alexis. "Dean Daniels did show up and shut us down..."

"Really?" Ricardo's eyebrows shot up about three feet from his forehead. "That's too bad. I hope there won't be any disciplinary action involved."

"So do I," said Alexis. She had to admit--the guy was shameless. Maybe he had called in the tip to Daniels. "I guess we'll find out on Monday. Until then, it's business as usual. I thought we could start by going over the final plans for Tuesday's big speech."

"Everything's all set," said Don Harmony, activities vice-president of ASS. "I spoke to the vice-president's campaign office on Friday morning and they informed me that everything is ready to go. They've spoken to the campus police, the deans, the president, the whole bit. Vice-President Gore will arrive about a half-hour before his speech, and all we have to do is show up. They'll handle security, transport, everything. Then after the speech, there will be a brief meet-and-greet backstage, after which we'll ferry him..."

"To the after-party," said Nelly Rasavich, the academic vice-president. "I've arranged for the caterers and the string quartet to set up in one of the big classrooms adjacent to Rusk Hall. All the big spenders have been invited by President Banks, and Gore will stick around for about an hour before hopping back into his limo and jetting back to Washington."

"Fantastic. Excellent work, folks." Alexis was genuinely excited about Gore's speech. Not only was it a huge feather in the school's cap, but it was an even bigger feather in her own cap, and she could hopefully parlay this appearance into an internship on the Vice-President's presidential campaign next summer.

"It should be a great night," remarked Ricardo, a shit-eating grin covering his face. "I certainly hope you're still on ASS when it arrives, Alexis."

Everyone chuckled, even Alexis. At least, Ricardo's thinly veiled jab was what everyone thought Alexis was chuckling at. She was probably actually laughing at the image in her head of a naked Ricardo strapped to a hospital bed...and her standing over him with his nuts in her hands, crushing them like oversized grapes.

"Saturday Night: A Night That Will Live In Infamy."

No way, thought Stephen Craig. Way too overdone.

"Dean Daniels: Administrator or Dictator?"

Too melodramatic.

"Let's Set Our Campus Free!"

Too patriotic.

Stephen tore the top sheet off his pad, crumpled it up, tossed it across the room toward his garbage. It joined the cluster of papers just like it strewn around the can in a small pile. He folded his arms and placed his head upon them. He'd been up all night, staring at a computer screen and composing the most controversial editorial in the history of the Northsouthern Sentinel. It was based on the events of last night, inspired by Dean Daniels' invasion of their apartment and bust of their party--and its final sentences called for the Dean's resignation.

Plenty of shit would be hitting plenty of fans on Monday afternoon, after the editoral had hit the campus streets. As he drifted off to slumber on Sunday morning, he wondered how much of that shit would end up splattered all over his academic record after the Dean got through with his inevitable revenge.