In desperation, you search your pockets for a weapon. You whine at the thought of the five unopened bottles of mace sitting on the cabinet at home. As your hands penetrate the thick wall of gum wrappers in your pocket, you feel something metallic at the other end. The mutilated fork! Good art won't always match your sofa, but think of what it can do...

 You whip out the fork, fists clenched, a look of ultimate power in your eyes. You hold the ace and you know it. So do the kids.

 "What is that?" they scream. "It's the most horrible thing I've ever seen!" wails another. A few emit nervous sobs, and all run home to their mothers.

 A tear of anguish runs down your cheek. "They called it horrible," you mutter inaudibly. You want to run after them, calling out that it took you fifteen minutes to create this piece in the cafeteria. Shaking, knowing more fully now that misunderstood genius will be your cross to bear in life, you continue on your journey.

 As you commence, you see a four-legged green, pink, and purple spotted creature walking across campus. You're feeling as mad as a hatter, when you suddenly realize that it's Spinoza. You take a closer look.

Turn to Page 27.