A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words

The group of young coeds appeared one rainy afternoon at my dorm room door, portfolios in hand. I was not sure what was more odd; it was poring rain out yet none of them were wet. They were LARPing in historical outfits from random time periods from Salam and Boston's past. They were also accompanied by a black goat "Hi, I hear your roommate needs models for his senior project."

I did a double take. For a second I thought it had been the goat talking.

My first roommate in college was a six year senior and an art major. He had an almost James Bond like ability to seduce women. He was the picture perfect image of a pretentious college fine art major, down to the cigarette in a long holder, raccoon skin coat from the 1920s, and goatee.

"It a critique of 1890s era occult feminism, a celebration of surrealism that pays homage to both Salvador Dalí and occultist Aleister Crowley." I cautioned.

"Gee whiz mister, what does mean?" One of the women asked me. She was a short blonde. Maybe five foot tall at most, very curvy. She was dressed in what I guessed women wore in the 1890s, a large hat with feathers, floor length dress, and a non-sexy lace blouse. Even their hair looked old school.

I knew I had seen a few of them before, but could not place them.

"I honestly have no idea. I think the models slowly get naked then he takes photos of them with these pictures of melted clocks projected onto their nude bodies. The pay is $18 per hour and its a three hour minimum.

"$18...per hour? My goodness, would we be required to put four quarters on the spit."

"Not sure, I'm not an art major. But yeah, $18 per hour. You ladies look amazing. If I had any skill as an artist at all I would totally pay double that to use you as my nude models." Some of their eyes went wide as the words left my mouth. "Sorry, that came out creepy. I have some coca-cola if you wanted to wait here. I could order us some pizza, my treat. He should be back in soon" I lied, I knew my roommate would not be back till tomorrow morning. This was my chance to spend time with some hot LARP chicks, coeds who might get naked. It was worth the price of a few pizza. Plus, the goat was badass.

"Thank you, but no coca for us. I lost the taste for cocaine during the typhoid epidemic of 91." One of the women smiled sadly. "Pizza sounds delightful, is it some type of fruit? We're famished."

"Okay, Four cheese and veggie pizzas, hold the cocaine." I joked as I placed the order, I froze as I looked back at the women. They were staring as if the phone was some alien device.

"I see your an admirer of Ethel Halsey." The blond asked looking at the old photo on the wall.

"Of course, the first female surgeon to graduate from Miskatonic University back in the 1890s. One of the Miskatonic mysteries revolves around her and many of the professors wives having syphilis then it getting mysteriously cured 50 years before antibiotics. Almost won a noble prize for her work on pancreas medicines. The biology and pre-med dorms across the street are named for her." I pointed out the window. "I'm alive because of her, her Halsey method saved my life as a kid, I..."

"I would never collaborate with that bomb-making scoundrel Nobel." One of the women blurted. "I mean Dr. Halsey would never." She started before one of the other women put a hand over her mouth.

It hit me like a flash where I had seen them from, their photos were on my wall, some of the most important women to graduate from Miskatonic University in the 1800s. I needed to sit down. "Dr.Halsey" I gasped as I groped for the bottle of antibiotics I had liberated from the med center last month. "You ladies needs these, these will help you. Two a day for 14 days will cure syphilis."

"How could we ever repay you?" Dr. Halsey asked, reading the bottle of antibiotics.

"He's male. These prevent pregnancy." The blond smiled as she held up my box of condoms. "He knows of our occultist activities. I'm sure we can think of some mutually pleasurable method of repayment. We have till dawn..."