Falcons05, to the Rock M community at least, was dead as a Harpo’s goalpost. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I’m going to relate. The ban hammer was swung by Bill C., on at least three different occasions, and thus I say again: He was completely and utterly dead. His surviving partner, Ebenezer Gaknar, however, remained actively involved in the community. That is to say, his grizzled old opinions could be read on every topic imaginable, from the Kansas City Chiefs to winning football programs.
We now join Mr. Gaknar, that old miser, greedily thumbing through an old bag of coins Falcons05 accidentally left behind as the virtual door finally shut tight upon him forever. He sits in a cluttered office at his place of business beside a single candle, all but overwhelmed in the surrounding dark and cold. It suits his deeply-blackened soul well enough, and besides: Dark is cheap. To his left, in an even smaller cell, warmed by an even smaller candle, sits his clerk Bob Threadkiller. Bob earns just $75 a week, and must provide for a wife and five children, including his youngest (and most sickly) son, Roy. There is something seriously wrong with Roy. Seriously. He was shot in the jaw many years before, which explains his many problems. Well, it explains most of them, anyway.
Presently, the two men are joined by benevolent members of the Masthead: Tigers & Chiefs Fan and Country Cal. Though both are well documented haters of all things Kansas, Christmas has a way of burying even the deepest of hatchets..
T&C: Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr. Falcons05 or Mr. Gaknar?
Gak: Mr. Falcons05 has been banned these seven years. In fact, he was banned 7 years ago this very night.
CC: Well, we have no doubt that his insight on basketball coaching hires has passed on to his surviving partner. At this festive season of the year, Mr. Gaknar, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute. You know..Jayhawks.
Gak: Don’t they have Leavenworth?
CC: It’s still open, Sir.
Gak: And Aqib Talib, he still has a job somewhere, doesn’t he?
T&C: He does. I only wish I could say he does not.
Gak: Well, that’s more than enough for the lot of them. You want to help Jayhawks? Get them out of that Texas conference. The MAC needs one more team, or perhaps whatever that new Big East thing is. And there’s always the Sun Belt. Schools that are badly off must go there!
T&C: Many can’t go there.
CC: And some athletic programs would rather die.
Gak: If they would rather die they’d better do it, and give back all of those claimed titles! You can present any case you’d like, but I’ve helped them as much as I’m going to. Which is not at all. Mr. Threadkiller, would you show these people out?
Fast forward two hours to 7:00 PM. The church bell rings, and Gaknar climbs down from his stool. The Christmas holiday is upon him, like it or not.
Gak: You’ll want the whole day off I suppose?
TK: If most convenient, Sir.
Gak: It’s not convenient, and it’s not fair! You still expect to get your $15 for tomorrow, even though you won’t be lifting a finger for me. And you cannot be that badly off; I know you’ve managed to get that family of yours enough Casey’s pizza to stuff their faces all day tomorrow, even on $75 a week. I really should’ve fired you that day I caught you looking at that picture Saximus posted. And I still might. Well, I guess you’d better have the whole day. But be back all the earlier the next morning!
TK: U mad, bro?
Gak: What was that, Threadkiller?
TK: I said thank you, Sir! It’s most generous of you! And a Merry Christmas to you, sir!
Gak: Merry Christmas?! Don’t make me post a recipe, Bob! My $75 clerk with a wife and family plans to have a Merry Christmas. They’ll all drive me crazy before it’s over! Sigh.. I'll retire in Ames.
Bob locked up the shop and walked merrily all the way to Lamar (some 25 miles), and Gaknar walked two blocks down to his three story mansion, also left behind by Falcons05. The dark and the cold were barely held at bay by the smallest of coal fires, and upon it sat his saucepan filled with gruel (some call them mashed potatoes). As he sat down to take his gruel, an other-worldly sound seemed to be coming up the staircase. Dropping his spoon, he turned just in time to see a ghostly figure slip through the closed door and into to his chamber!
Gak: Ahh! Who are you?!
Ghost: Ask me who I was.
Gak: alright, alright! These grammar Nazis are ruining this site. Who were you, then?
Ghost: In life, I was your partner, Falcons05
At this point the ghost stood over Gaknar, rattling his chains, and he let out the most dreadful howl imaginable, shaking Gaknar to his black core.
Gak: Fine! I believe in you. But why do you walk the earth? And why do you come to me? And why are you fettered?!
Ghost: Hear me, Gaknar! Don’t get ban hammered! Don’t let Bob’s son get ban hammered! He has come dangerously close many, many a day! Oh, woe is me! Since in exile, I have been made to wander without rest from Tigerboard to Power Mizzou to the KC Star to ESPN and on and on and on. I cannot stay, I cannot linger anywhere! It’s awful out here! Incessant torture of remorse! AHHHH!! I wear the chains I forged in life with my own comments. I made them link by link and yard by yard! It’s the internet, Gaknar! NOTHING EVER GOES AWAY!
Gak: You have my sympathies.
Ghost: As if! You do not know the weight and length of strong coil you bare yourself, Gaknar! It was fully as heavy and as long as this, seven Christmas Eves ago, and you have labored on it since! Remember your campaign for Texas AD? Ahh.. It is a ponderous chain! Hear me, I say! My time is nearly gone. You have yet a chance and hope of escaping my terrible fate! A chance of my procuring, Gaknar.
Gak: Thanks, buddy [attempts fist bump; is left hanging]
Ghost: You will be visited by 3 ghosts.
Gak: Screw that! How long is this FanPost going to drag on, anyway? We have a big game in about 24 hours. You’ve been away a while; maybe you haven’t heard.. At least tell me this visit counts as one?
Ghost: Expect the first visit when the bell tolls one (CST).