Sir Ascheron

Ash sighed loudly as he peered out the door of the church. Still no snow. There was nothing Ash hated more than below zero weather that didn’t even have the decency to send some snow for goofing off in. Minneapolis winters could be such a bitch sometimes!

“Hey, Ash! Wait up!” Footsteps resounded behind him.

Ash shut the door on the cold and dug into his popcorn while waiting. “Get a move on, Jeremy! I’ve got calc homework waiting for me. Someday I’m just gonna leave without you, ya know.”

Ash turned around and the footsteps became a short young man carrying a saxophone case. He was hurrying to put on his gloves. “Hey, you try packing up a sax faster than that! And gimme some of your popcorn. It’s always gone by the time the choir gets outta there.”

With a sly grin, Ash pulled the church-provided snack out of reach. “No way, Jeremy! You make me come to mass; this is my reward for dragging my ass here.”

“Ah, come on... Ascheron!” Jeremy just laughed at Ash’s scowl and wrestled a handful of popcorn from him.

“Ugh! I hate my name!” growled Ash as he surrendered the popcorn and opened the door a second time. The two college roommates stepped out onto the dreary grey streets. “Who the hell names their kid ‘Ascheron’? Seriously, sometimes I think my parents hate me. What were they on when I was born? Crack?”

“Fantasy novels,” suggested Jeremy with a lazy grin. He finished off the popcorn and threw the container back at Ash.

Ash caught it, then chucked it in the direction of the nearest garbage bin, missing his target entirely. “Yeah, that’s me – Sir Ascheron, the magical elf prince, or something. Whatever. I can’t even sink a shot to the trash can, much less save a whole planet from mind-sucking dwarves or something!” He sighed as he bent down to pick up his litter. “At least ‘Ash’ makes a decent nickname.”

“For a guy who’s tall like a tree, maybe. Wouldn’t work for me,” sighed Jeremy. “Some of us can sink shots and still wouldn’t make it on the basketball team.”

Ash laughed. As they walked through Dinkytown, the small commercial area near Minneapolis campus, they fell into a companionable silence. At nine o’clock on a Sunday night, the shops were mostly closed, but the familiar feeling of the street still sang to Ash. It wasn’t Madison’s State Street by a long shot, but after almost three semesters of school, the crappy grocery store and used books shops and basement-run tattoo parlor were like home now. He’d spent more of his life than he cared to admit avoiding studying in the coffee shops and bagel joints here, and at the corner of the block was Annie’s, where a student could get the finest malts in Minnesota, as long as he was willing to wait an hour for service. In Ash’s opinion, it was worth the wait.

“Shame they took out the Pizza Hut,” Ash said. “I miss that place. Though maybe that new Italian restaurant’ll be decent. Looks good for dates.”

Jeremy studied the new restaurant’s facade at the last comment. “Yeah, probably.” He glanced up at Ash and asked with a broad grin, “Got anyone in mind?”

Ash grinned back. “There’s a few prospects.”

“But mainly...” Jeremy let the sentence dangle in clear anticipation.

“Katie Raalings. From physics, ya know? God, she’s a hottie. And sharp too, least according to her quiz scores.”

“Anyone looks smart, compared to our physics grades!” Jeremy reminded him, ducking as Ash threw a mock punch his way. “But she’s the one who sits next to Sarah Tyler and Chris whatshisname? Yeah, she’s pretty cute. But does she even know you exist?”

Ash had pondered that question himself, somewhat to the detriment of his physics knowledge. “I’m workin’ on it. I’m workin’.”

Shortly thereafter, the conversation morphed into general grumblings about the weather – always a safe topic at any time of year in Minnesota – and as they strolled onto the University campus itself, eventually nearing Northrop Auditorium at the campus’s center. The wind picked up, making Ash swear. “Knew I should’ve ridden my bike,” he growled. “I’d’ve been home by now. Course, if I had, the sky’d’ve opened up and dumped on us. Murphy’s Law, and all.” He knew it was true – the last time he had taken his bike anywhere in the winter, it had been to a hockey game when he’d been running late. Three hours later when he’d left Mariucci Arena, he’d found his bike under a foot of snow with the gears frozen solid. “Damn winter,” he groused again, kicking at a rock just for the spite of it. “I hate you, too!”

A wavery old voice sounded over his complaining as they neared the side steps up to Northrop Auditorium. “Got a quarter fer me, missy?” an unseen man called.

Ash knew who it was – the same grimy old beggar who had been there since Ash’s first day on campus, probably wearing the same grimy free maroon and gold sweatshirt that he always was. Ash could occasionally work up a little sympathy for some pan-handlers – like the old guy who always came out in spring to play his piccolo for coins – but not for this guy. He’d never had any trouble with him personally, but the girls in class said he hassled them for money every time they crossed ‘his’ steps. Ash didn’t consider himself particularly chivalrous, but there was a line of common decency, and picking on poor college girls for money crossed it. Especially if you were a nasty old man.

“Come on, pretty girlie, just a quarter fer an old man?” begged the man again. By now Ash could make out the maroon of his sweatshirt in the dim light.

“No,” answered an irritated female voice, “for the fourth time. Now leave me alone!”

Ash felt himself begin to get seriously annoyed. What was it with that guy? The only thing pestering girls like that ever brought you was a pain in the neck – or the groin, if you pissed them off bad enough. Ash had done that once in high school, and was a quick enough learner never to have done it again.

“Aw, girlie, it’s jest a quarter...” the beggar cried pitifully. “Not much fer a pretty girl like you.”

That did it. Ash had had enough. He jogged the last few steps into the light where the beggar stood hunched over, then stepped between him and the girl. “She said to leave her alone. So why don’t you just shut up and go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, hey?”

The beggar backed down immediately, as Ash had suspected he would. After all, he only ever begged from girls, never guys. That made him a wimp and a coward in Ash’s book. “Pick on someone your own size!” he added, feeling surprisingly satisfied for having a valid reason to use the hackneyed phrase.

“Aw, it was only a quarter,” whined the beggar as he slowly faded away, down the side steps from which Ash and Jeremy had come.

“Whatever,” muttered Jeremy, disgusted.

“Get a job,” Ash mumbled, more to himself than the departing beggar. “Even the piccolo dude earns his money.” Then he turned to see who the girl was.

And froze.

“Katie?” he whispered, mental gears turning very quickly as he recognized his good fortune. “Katie Raalings?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Katie smiled up at him. “He’s such a pest. Not that I’ve ever heard of him hurting anyone, but... ick! He’s just so slimy.” She took a closer look at the two young men standing before her. “You’re Ash, right? From physics? And... Jeremy?”

Both boys nodded. Then, with no need for prompting, Jeremy took on the wingman’s role. “Well, I need to get outta here – my sax’s gonna freeze solid if I’m outside for much longer. Ash, I’ll see you ‘round later. Have a good night, Katie!”

“See ya, Jeremy,” called Ash, still unable to believe his good luck. He turned to Katie, put on his best gentleman’s smile, and asked, “Can I walk you home? It’s pretty dark out.”

She smiled back at him, and something in the way she did it made Ash certain she had seen right through Jeremy’s excuse. “Sure. I’m over on the far side of Dinkytown, though, so it’ll be a hike.”

“That’s okay,” Ash declared staunchly. “It’s not all that cold out. We Minnesotans are born for those freezing temperatures, right?”

Katie laughed. “Maybe you are, but I’m from Illinois. We Illini are born for those miles and miles of corn fields!” She laughed with him, then looked curiously at Ash and asked, “So what’s your last name, anyhow?”

“McTavish. Ascheron McTavish,” he answered, trying to make the hated syllables sound as impressive as he could.

It must have worked. “Ascheron,” echoed Katie with a giggle. “Sounds all chivalrous-like.”

Ash grinned back, relaxing somewhat, and gave her his most courtly bow. “That’s Sir Ascheron to you! Pure Knights of the Round Table stuff, you know.”

Katie rolled her eyes at his mannerisms, but remained smiling. “Uh huh. Well, Sir Ascheron, if you’re going to be my personal medieval knight for the night, we’d better get walking before your armor freezes solid!”

“Your wish is my command, milady!” joked Ash, leading the way. Minneapolis winters were wonderful, he decided – so full of possibilities and soft, warm women! All of the sudden, he realized he almost liked that disgusting beggar, just for having been there. Maybe he’d even drop him a quarter the next time he walked by...

Yes, the places mentioned above are real and are located on or near the East Bank of the Minneapolis campus of the University of Minnesota – Twin Cities. There really is a Dinkytown, with an Annie’s, tattoo parlor, and the lot. There really is a church that hands out free popcorn. There really is a Northrop Auditorium, and there really is a crazy old beggar in a free sweatshirt who never fails to ask girls for quarters. These were my haunts during undergrad, circa 2000, and I knew them all well. As for Katie and Jeremy and Ascheron... well, I never met them, but who’s to say they aren’t real, as well!