10/04   An Encounter Of The mconst Kind

        10/04/2000, 7:58pm. Walking home to the southside ghetto after
        a day at Soda, already under the cover of Berkeley's
        orange-tinted darkness. The empty stretch of road between Doe
        and the Campanile is, as always, unlit and
        unpopulated. Step. Step, step. Rustle somewhere a few dozen
        feet behind. Step, step. Rustle, rustle. Step. Rustle. Mind
        turns to unpleasant thoughts, as feet begin to veer off to the
        right. At a 90-degree angle, a familiar shadow is revealed.
        "Mconst?" "Yea. Hi." "Hey. What's u---" The campanile bell
        strikes loudly right above. In an instant, his usual facial
        expression transmogrifies to that of utter horror and
        disbelief. "Gotta run!" he gasps, darting madly in the
        direction of Sproul. "Wait...", but he is already turning the
        corner of Wheeler, and, in that last brief moment, a strange
        apparition flashes and vanishes. I rub my eyes. No, couldn't
        have. Or then, perhaps... And thus I'm forever left to wonder,
        did the 'fro really become a pumpkin?