Or, the day King Hammer fell from the sky.
In the summer of 2007, at the bursting point of a historic credit bubble, a famous hedge fund manager named Harry Hammersmith pledges one billion dollars to his beloved Alma Mater, an elite College south of Boston named Plymouth Mather, founded in the year of our Lord 1728 to honor the memory of one Cotton Mather, a distinguished puritan zealot and accomplished witch burner.
Sir Harry Hammersmith, knighted by the Queen of England, and known throughout the financial world as “King Hammer”, plans to deliver his big swinging — gift — in person: at high noon, he shall arrive at the dead center of the Plymouth Mather quad by parachute.
It is a very hot summer day, not a cloud in the sky, seconds before the appointed hour: the elegantly attired guests have assembled upon the freshly mowed green, eager to witness such a sublime moment in the history of philanthropy, the largest single gift ever made to a private institution of higher learning.
Later, during the Kerry Commission Hearings on the Violent and Untimely Death of Sir Harry Hammersmith, a student who had been hired to pour champagne gave the following eyewitness report: