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"Troll!"
The troll professor stopped in his tracks. Pan Akeia the ape stared in disbelief; which was odd; Anakron had never seen an ape stare in disbelief. He shrugged. The troll turned.
"Yes sir?" asked the Troll.
"You have been teaching a mockery of this course."
The troll looked confused. "That cannot be. Sales and Marketing in a Futile System. It is quite obvious."
"You ninny. I thought you trolls knew better than that. I can see that someone has mis-spellt the name of the course, and you have not questioned the matter. The course is supposed to be "Sales and Marketing in a Feudal System." Anakron raised his staff, the cat meowed, and a piece of chalk appeared in Anakron's hand. He raised it and wrote on the corridor wall, saying the letters as he wrote. "F-E-U-D-A-L. Feudal. Have you any idea what this course is supposed to be about now? You vermin. Nincompoop!" Panakiea had never seen Anakron get angry, but his ire seemed to be rising with each new derogation that came to mind. "You - you - TROLL! Don't you understand that she's being prepared, supposedly, by your course, to survive in the great big middle earth out there?!?"
The troll looked wounded. "I - I'm sorry, Grand Anakronist. I shall change my syllabus immediately."
"I want that ape taught how to survive!!"
"Yes sir!"
"See to it!" With that, Anakron turned on a dime and passed Panakeia with a smile. "Good morning to you, and nice work. Um, you might want to shave...."
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