Drip-drip and Drop-drop in the Heating Tunnels
Artist: Kenneth M. Kapp
Drip-drip and Drop-drop were twins who, on their 25th birthday – in the middle of some very serious celebrating – decided a quarter-of-a-century was old enough. They raised their glass, shouting in triumph, “Let’s stay 25 forever!”
Drip-drip was the smarter of the two and after his second piece of the double-double chocolate coffee birthday cake, which had a mildly sobering effect, told his brother, “I’m sure we were good at least one day growing up so we get one day off for good behavior and we can be 24 forever.” Drop-drop licked the chocolate crumbs from his lips, grinned, and quickly agreed. “Excellent.”
That was the best way to tell the twins apart. Drop-drop was forever saying “Excellent” while Drip-drip was always asking “Really?” But you had to look carefully since they usually sat together or stood side-by-side, talking out of the corners of their mouths so that their words sounded as if they were being shot out of a single cannon.
Legend had it, and you needn’t be hundreds of years old to have legends start, or even fifty, though that too is quite ancient, that when the boys were young, all of seven or eight, they had gotten into some mischief – broken a vase or unscrewed the tops of the salt and pepper shakers – most likely the latter. Their mother, who was living at home at the time, had shaken a finger or two at them. “Did you boys do this? I’m going to have to spank you!”
Drop-drop said, “Excellent,” and Drip-drip asked, “Really?” The legend goes on to say that their mother disappeared the next day, but it’s not certain since the boys didn’t come to school for a week. Nothing is known about their father although there’s a story about that too.
By the time the twins were five they already had developed bad habits. One was forever turning faucets to listen to the dripping water while the other was always dropping things since he liked the sound of objects hitting the ground. Their father was frustrated and starting calling one Drip-drip and the other Drop-drop threatening to do so until the one learned to turn the faucet off and the other stopped dropping things. Since this was years before you could distinguish them by “Excellent” or “Really?” it was most likely their father got them confused and the twins, thinking it was funny, went along with their new names. Occasionally, Drip-drip would drop something and Drop-drop would make sure to be caught turning a faucet ever so slightly so the water would drip. Their father was gone before their sixth birthday but his names for them stayed.
They did the usual things little boys do when growing up, some good, some so-so, and a fair number questionable. However, their first big adventure had to wait until they were freshmen at the U in Madison, Wisconsin. It was then that they discovered the maze of heating tunnels running under the campus. An upper-class coed showed them an access grate after their intro psych class. The twins had a certain sex appeal and she had hoped that the three of them alone at a tunnel party would be conducive to other activities. They went for coffee the next day to plan, but after she heard more excellents and reallys? in an hour than anyone should have to hear in a lifetime, she reconsidered and said she just remembered that she promised to go home for the weekend.
The twins, however, agreed that a Saturday night tunnel party was, “Really an excellent idea,” and made plans to explore by themselves. Drip-drip said, “I’ll make sandwiches,” and Drop-drop said, “I’ll get a six-pack of beer.”
They spent the rest of the week purchasing flashlights, batteries and large rolls of twine at the local hardware store. They bought black baklavas at Target as they already had black pants and black turtlenecks. They made several copies of the official campus map and used different color magic-markers to plot the most likely routing of the heating tunnels. The heating plant was marked with a red X and their entry point behind the psych building was circled in green. They posted a countdown on the bulletin board in their dorm room, at first decrementing in increments of eight hours, then four and finally on Saturday counting down each hour starting at noon.
That night, while eating pizza for supper, Drip asked Drop – the boys used the shortened form of their nicknames when they were excited – “Drop, are you excited?” Drop answered, “Really,” and Drip concurred, “Me too, excellent!”
They synchronized their watches, checked the compasses they had found at the last minute in an Army-Navy Surplus store on State Street, and precisely at 9 PM raised the grate behind the psych building. Drip-drip went in first, saying he wanted to be sure they could raise the grate from the inside. He could. Drop-drop followed seconds later and tied off the twine on the short ladder to the tunnel floor.
The checked their compasses and set off up a slight gradient in an NNW direction. Drip-drip consulted a map and said, “This should take us to the Administration Building at the top of the hill.” Once their eyes got used to the dark they could make out faint light bulbs running along above the large wrapped steam pipes and utility wires lining the sides of the tunnel. Several places smelled of urine and others had shredded piles of mattress foam. Drop-drop reminded his brother that Stacy, the junior who had to go home, had told him that freshmen often got lost and panicked, pissing themselves. “That’s why I said we needed the twine. You’re not the only smart twin!”
They came to a turn. Drip asked Drop if he thought they had passed under the statue of President Lincoln? “Wouldn’t it be funny if he stood up when some coed walked by and crashed down on us?” Drop didn’t think it was worth a laugh and answered cynically, “Not really. And besides who believes that story about virgins anyhow?”
By then they were standing in front of a door with a sign to the side: Admin Build. Drip-drip put his ear to the door. “I don’t hear anything.” Drop-drop said, “Turn the handle, see if it opens.” The handle turned; Drip-drip pushed and the door opened with a creak. Drop-drop looked in. “Gad. I’ve never seen so many file cabinets and there’re boxes stacked ten-high along one wall.” Drip-drip said, “Really? How boring. Look, let’s go on to the Chemistry Building. I bet we can find some good stuff there.”
Drop-drop pulled the door closed and looped the twine around the handle, explaining that he had seen this done in cavern diving videos. “That’s what they do so they could find their way out in case of a silt-up.” Drip-drip nodded, not bothering to say “really.” Drop-drop was disappointed so he muttered, “Excellent,” anyhow.
For the next 90 minutes they went from one building to another, all underground. They stopped for sandwiches and a beer. Drip-drip burped. “I’m getting tired. Let’s head back.” Drop-drop agreed. “Excellent. I’ll start rewinding the twine.”
They made good time back to the grate outside the psych building and scampered up the ladder. They were lowering the grate when they were hit by bright lights and a welcoming committee of campus police. They were taken to the campus security office where they were “booked.”
“You kids should know better. Those tunnels are off-limits and restricted. You could have been hurt. You’ll have to appear before the Dean of Students Monday morning. Be there by ten.” Their student IDs and driver’s licenses were kept.
The Dean read them the riot act. “We’re going to make an example of you two. You’ll be expelled for the rest of the semester and this is going on your record.”
Drip-drip smiled. “Really, expelled?”
The Dean turned red and slammed his fist down on their file, spilling his morning coffee over everything. “Yes, really expelled and now that’s for the full year!”
Drop-drop said, “Excellent. This school is boring anyhow.” He turned to his twin, “Come, Drip.”
“My pleasure, Drop.”
They both skipped out of the Dean’s Office chanting, капли капали, капли капали – KAHP-lee KAHP-a-lee, KAHP-lee KAHP-a-lee – drops dripped, drops dripped, quoting from Tolstoy’s War and Peace.
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