All those who had Done Time at a certain endowed Institution for shaping and polishing Highbrows had to close in once a Year for a Banquet. They called it a Banquet because it would have been a Joke to call it a Dinner.
The Invitations looked like real Type-Writing and called upon all the
Loyal Sons of Old Bohunkus to dig up 3 Sesterces and get ready for a
Big Night.
To insure a Riot of spontaneous Gaiety the following Organization was effected:
Committee on Invitation.
Committee on Reception.
Committee on Lights and Music.
Committee on Speakers.
Committee on Decorations.
Committee on Police Protection.
Committee on First Aid to Injured.
Committee on Maynew.
Committee on Liquid Nourishment.
Each Committee held numerous Meetings, at the Call of the Chairman, and discussed the impeding Festivities with that solemn regard for piffling Detail which marked the Peace Conference at The Hague.
The Frolic was to be perpetrated at a Hotel famous for the number of
Electric Lights.
The Hour was to be 6:30, Sharp, so that by 6:45, four old Grads, with variegated Belshazzars, were massed together in the Egyptian Room trying to fix the Date upon which Doctor Milo Lobsquosset became Emeritus Professor of Saracenic Phlobotomy.
Along about 7:30, a Sub-Committee wearing Satin Badges was sent downstairs to round up some recent Alumni who were trying to get a Running Start, and at 7:45 a second Detachment was sent out to find the Rescue Party.
Finally at 8 o'clock the glad Throng moved into the Main Banquet Hall, which was a snug Apartment about the size of the Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, done in Gold and various shades of Pink, to approximate the Chambermaid's Dream of Paradise. The style of Ornamentation was that which precipitated the French Revolution.
Beside each Plate was a blond Decoction named in honor of the Martini
Rifle, which is guaranteed to kill at a Distance of 2,000 Yards. The
compounding had been done in a Churn early that morning and the
Temperature was that of the Room, in compliance with the Dictates of
Fashion.