Word: vag
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...passed by the checker's desk, Vag automatically picked up one of the little white slips and stuffed it in the breast pocket of his jacket, already bristling with silverwear put there some days ago at supper and since forgotten. He went down the line absent-mindedly, only the thud of mashed potatoes being dumped upon his tray reminding him of his surroundings. At the end of the line Vag picked up a coffiee and then stopped. He peered out over the tables packed with babling undergraduates, all of them waving their arms back and forth energetically. Over the monstrous...
...Vag slowly shook the snow off his trousers. "O.K., I guess," he murmured and again took a position behind a rear fender, this time attached to a battered pre-war Ford. Throwing his weight behind the car as the driver gunned the motor, Vag was immediately enveloped in a cloud of oily black exhaust. But he clung valiantly to his post and the car edged slowly into the middle of the street. Long after the others had zoomed off to Wellesley, Vag was still standing in the empty parking space, coughing carbon monoxide and shaking another load of snow...
...well, off to Tommy's Bamboo Paradise," he muttered as he recrossed the street and trotted up to his car. Deftly he flicked on the ignition switch, pumped the gas pedal twice and pushed the starter. The engine took hold instantly, and Vag's mind dwelt momentarily on the excellency of his driving machine. He slipped it into first gear and stepped on the gas. The engine raced, the rear wheels raced, but the car stood still. The low whine of wheels spinning on ice split...
...Damn it," growled Vag as he shifted into reverse. Same result, though the whine from the spinning wheels was perhaps a trifle higher in pitch. "Must be really stuck this time, he thought. "Better get help." He stuck his head out the window. The street was deserted. A helluva note thought Vag, as he again tried to rock his car off the ice. No dice...
...Vag was enraged by this time. He climbed out of the car and slammed the door so hard that the snow on the roof slid off on the ground. "Maybe Durocher was right," he mused as he started back to his room, "nice guys finish last...