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Percy Jorgon, Ed.D.

Percy Jorgon took a final look out his bay window, the beautiful Vermont autumn beginning to really express itself, yellows and oranges among the trees below, even a few reds by now. A shame to leave, in a way. Then he looked down at the courtyard, to where a “Free Tami” banner was tied between two bushes, a leftover from this morning’s demonstration.


He glanced over to his desk, now empty, to the far edge where a teenage girl’s bare toes had once grasped, her legs wide open in a ballerina’s split, and then he looked to the seat in front of him, where the naked teenager had once flexed her internal muscles and shown him the interior of her vagina, and then flipped around and displayed the inner walls of her rectum. Remarkable. He flushed again at the memory of that embarrassing moment. Well, he got back at her for that one!


And now, well, God’s blessing on her. She wasn’t a bad kid, he decided, and she had lots of friends, and now the religious nuts on the Board will have to stew in the mess they made. For himself, he felt immense relief. He made the principled stand, for religious freedom, and did the honorable thing, though it was actually standard operating bullshit for his line of work. He looked down and smiled once more at the profile in the Boston Globe -- “Reluctant Defender of Religious Freedom”. What luck, it had his picture right next to the headline, and they got his name spelled right. That article was his ticket out of here, his ticket to some bigger place where, if he had to deal with cocksure morons, at least they would be bigger players. What a rough five years -- especially the last one! He found himself thinking: Thank you, Tami Smithers. Without you I might have been stuck here forever.


As he packed up his bag and began to walk out, he looked at the plush chair on the side, where Henry Ross always sat. Strange, mysterious man, disappearing like that without warning, to no one knew where. Still, a good lawyer. He protected me, did my dirty work for me.


Ex-Dean Jorgon parked his wire-rimmed glasses into the front pocket of his suit jacket and, exhaling, walked out.

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