If you have ever read Highlights, you are probably familiar with the comic-strip characters Goofus and Gallant. Surely you remember Goofus, that slacker, and Gallant, that unbearable little mama’s boy. Well, two of them took a trip to campus earlier this week, and puberty has not changed them.

Yes, I walked into the computer lab in D.H. Hill, and there they were. Gallant was busy with some WebAssign problems, and Goofus was working on his Maple homework. I sat at a computer nearby and watched.

Soon, Goofus pulled out his cell phone and began to talk, in a very loud, sharp voice:

“Hey, man! What’s up? Not much, not much, just working on some Maple. What you up to? Cool, cool. Hey, yeah, I’m up for lunch. Actually, Caitlyn says that she …”

Goofus went on talking in the crowded computer lab, despite the fact that 15 or 20 people had begun to give him nasty looks and grumble.

“Yeah,” Goofus continued, “I’m hoping you can help me out with this Maple. OK, the problem is, you’ve got a function, and you want to find the asymptote.” [Pause] “I don’t know what kind of function it is, it looks like, there’s an ‘e’ in it, and it’s got, look will you just …”

Gallant had reached his limit. He rose from his desk, walked over to the still-chatting Goofus, pulled out an enormous calculus book and without a word smacked Goofus full upside the head with it. Goofus dropped to the carpet, unconscious, and his chatter ceased. The other students gave a roar of appreciation for Gallant, and went on with their work.

I left the lab a few minutes later and hurried to math class. Upon entering the classroom, I was surprised to see Goofus sitting in the front row, an enormous red welt on his face. He must have regained consciousness shortly after I left the lab. Gallant walked in soon thereafter and sat down beside him.

Class began. For the first 20 minutes, the class went exactly as usual. The professor lectured, and the students took notes. About halfway through, however, Goofus interrupted the lecture, raising his hand.

“Yes, Goofus?” replied the professor.

“Umm, Dr. —, couldn’t you just say that the function ‘f’ is homeomorphic to ‘g’ just by virtue of their being homotopic? Because you have all the n-simplexes, so you just have to integrate, right?”

The professor prepared to answer Goofus’ question, but Gallant answered it first. “That wasn’t a question at all, you moron!” he exclaimed, turning upon his neighbor. “That was just a statement, trying to show off how smart you are! And little do you know, everyone in the class thinks you’re an insufferable show-off and hates your guts! Shut up, for the love of God, shut up!”

After this explosion, the teacher paused for a moment before resuming his lecture; the class tingled with pleasure; and Goofus did not venture to ask any more questions.

I struck up a conversation with Gallant after class, and he was kind enough to offer me a ride home. So we walked to Dan Allen Parking Deck together, and I got in his car. Unfortunately, as we were pulling out of the deck, Goofus pulled out in front of us.

We followed Goofus slowly down Dan Allen, all the way to Western Boulevard, and got caught at the light. We sat there waiting for at least five minutes. At last the light changed, but in front of us, Goofus did not move. The light was green, the arrow was there, but Goofus sat blocking our way.

Eventually, just as the light was turning yellow, Goofus noticed it and pulled into the intersection. The arrow turned red, and we were stuck again.

“That does it,” said Gallant. He pulled a bazooka from the back seat, took careful aim out the window, and Goofus’ Accord blew up, a fireball on wheels, rolling down Western Boulevard.

“Dude,” I said to Gallant, “that was pretty cool, but you just killed him. How in the world are you going to have Goofus and Gallant anymore?”

“Oh,” Gallant replied, “I kill Goofus every week. I’ve killed thousands of Goofuses in my lifetime.”

“Yeah, but where are you gonna find a replacement?” I asked.

Gallant made a wide sweep with his hand.

E-mail Jeff, Goofus extraordinaire, at [email protected].