Today's Short Story - Angst Riddled Rheingold

In an effort to spice up my blog a bit with personal writings, observations, etc., a short story I worked up the other day after reading a reference book on words the English language has usurped from other languages (FYI: Usurped taken from Middle English usurpen, from Old French usurper, from Latin ūsūrpāre, to take into use, usurp; see reup- in Indo-European roots)...



ANGST RIDDLED RHEINGOLD

A former wunderkind, now a Latin professor at his old alma mater, Klaus Rheingold was primus inter pares at the university, his weltan schauung an apologia pro vita sua that touched the sprachgefuhls of his peers. Many who opposed his teaching methods thought him kitschy and felt a genuine weltschmerz at his lofty position and credentials inter alia.

With a mens san in corpora sano he wasn’t leaving any time soon and the spiels of the other faculty at the kafeeklatch were primarily about their verboten desires to go flagrante delicto against Rheingold. Rheingold was persona non grata at the school and his downfall, discussed sub rosa, were not obiter dictums but more along the lines of schaden freud among the other members. They wondered if his house frau felt the same as they did. They had echt laughter over that.

A leitmotiv throughout the school year was one of Gotterdammerung, wanting Rheingold to en nune et simper die or get a disease or in fra dignitatem into drugs or something so the university would have to let him go. But Rheingold had an annus mirabilis, the students loved him. They would always love him as they loved their country, amor patriae. And ipso facto the staff was stuck with him though they thought Rheingold and the students who loved him non compos mentis.

It was a schmaltzy faculty function in the hinterland when the faculty that opposed Rheingold’s teachings had a plan. They’d be gemuttich to Rheingold, perhaps even produce a festschrift though it would be all ersatz because once they had him close they’d have, and have always had in their opinion, casus belli and de profundus of their rotting souls, they, ex more, planted cocaine and pornography in his classroom desk for the head of the department to see and see she did making an ex cathedra saying, de facto, Rheingold was no longer fit to teach for the corpus delicti was plentiful.

Angst riddled Rheingold as he collected his things. The gestalt wasn’t quite right to him though he couldn’t pinpoint why. But with wanderlust in his heart he knew he’d find work again somewhere. The staffers who set him up, ex post facto, thought cui bono and couldn’t come up with any sort of a posteriori.