The championship ring thief has been caught ring-fingered. This statement is meant literally in two distinct ways. The first meaning is that because he came to class on Thursday actually WEARING the ring, Cecil B. DeCollins, a.k.a. The Ring Thief, is behind campus bars tonight serving up shots of gin to giddy freshmen. This effort is just one part of a campus-wide initiative DeCollins agreed to join when he signed up for his latest cable channel.
I went into the bar to ask him a few questions, and if I can say nothing else, I’ll say this. DeCollins serves up one hell of an Irish Car Bomb. As Cecil explained it to me: “Well, this is what you do. You get eh pint of me lucky Guinness and yeh take a blarney shot of Jameson’s Fine Irish Whiskey and a just a wee touch or two of some type of me Irish Cream. I’ve heard Bailey’s is good. I’ll usually just use something like that, you know, whatever’s on sale. And then you take the shots and yeh drop em in the frickin’ glass and then you got to chug et! Pound! Pound! Pound!”
Five Irish Car Bombs and 10 hours later, DeCollins had this to say about getting caught with the ring.
“Man, I’m such an idiot, I don’t know what I was doing. This sucks.”
In what way does it suck Cecil? I asked him to be more specific.
“Well, OK. The first time I saw the ring, I just knew I had to have it. It was a very elegant gold platinum band and since this was championship number four, it had four gems in it: two sparkling sapphires and a couple of gleaming emeralds alternating in each corner. It was impressive. In the middle it just had two very simple letters: WU.”
DeCollins showed Student Libel the tan line he acquired during his day with the ring.
“I remember that day so well,” he said. (It was yesterday.) “We had a picnic in Forest Park. We went to the art museum to see the new Van Gogh exhibit. Then we watched the sun set together over Art Hill. I will never forget the way she glimmered in the twilight.”
And then?
“And then, I made the biggest mistake of my short, sweet life.”
And what was that?
“I thought it’d be fun to wear it to class. I mean, I was just so excited about the championship. I’ve got my championship number four free handout shirt and I’ve got the one they gave out after last year’s championship, too. I took the ones from the first two championships to the Salvation Army already but I’m really starting to regret it. Can you do a favor for me and see if they’re there?”
Huh?
“Anyways, the girl in class next to me was apparently on the team, in fact I think she was the leading scorer this year. Well, when she saw it, I think it was pretty obvious that the ring didn’t belong to me, since I am in fact, a male. I tried to cover my fist with my other hand, but I had one of the championship rings I stole last year on that hand. I was screwed!”
The player, Tasha Rodgers, said she had a hard time turning DeCollins in.
“Well, you know,” she said. “Cecil’s a great team. They really gave us one heck of a battle down the stretch there, but in the end, we were just too much for them.”
Was that where you guys were up by forty?
“Yeah, but you know, there was till like two minutes left and they still had their starters in. Cecil should be tough again next year.”
DeCollins understands why Rodgers had to turn him in.
“I mean, it’s not like I’m actually on the friggin’ team or anything, ye know?”
One more Irish Car Bomb. Serve it up, Cecil. Oh, and let me see that ring finger again.
Cecil gets mad at me after that one, but I crack up and my belly jiggles.
“Very funny,” he says. He flips me off. Next to the big middle finger, though, on its left, is just a nub. I lied about that tan line stuff! That was just a cover.. I’ve been meaning to get back to you about that other literal meaning.
See, Cecil B. DeCollins couldn’t bear a life without the championship ring on his finger. In class that day, he heard the WU-Po sirens closing in the distant. He got up and walked to the back of the room with a dejected stride. This was a shop class. DeCollins went for the table saw, and let’s just say it wasn’t pretty.
Cecil B. DeCollins’ ring finger, dead, at the age of 21. One more Irish Car Bomb, Cecil?