After their vacation in Cleveland, the Dead Rabbits returned to their city with renewed vigor. Now they were planning an attack on New York University as revenge for having vetoed the entrance to his leader. The examining board alleged that Bobblehead was unable to account for the result of the mathematical operation 0 + 0 = 0. (He thought it was a trick question and claimed that the result was 4,731.) The plan was to paint the Washington Square Arch, symbol of the University, of vermilion. For that purpose they bought broad brushes and several giant cans of paint. Loaded with that equipment and with three long stairs, a moonless night they sneaked up to the Washington Square campus and began to paint the Arch thoroughly. Due to the reining darkness, they did not realize that Squattedman had replaced the vermilion paint with white paint.
They worked tirelessly all night and before dawn they had finished the work. A few days later, an envelope with the NYU logo was received at the gang’s headquarters in Five Points. In it, the Chancellor thanked them for that very nice gesture of giving a fresh coat of paint to the emblematic monument.
This angered Bobblehead so much that that very afternoon he was planning with his gang a new attack on the NYU to take revenge for the frustrated revenge that had made Dead Rabbits look like dumb-asses before the other local gangs. The plan was simple but devastating: it was about boycotting classes by stealing all the chalks and blackboard erasers.
The night they sneaked into the campus, Squattedman was busy attending to other obligations (Happy Jack Flanagan, from the Gopher gang, had climbed on a lamppost and refused to go down), but this time his presence would have been unnecessary, since the Dead Rabbits themselves withdrew on their own initiative without stealing any chalk or eraser. Why? Because in the first classroom they raided, Bobblehead found something that moved him deeply. It was the classroom where the entrance exam had been held, the very classroom where, in front of the examining board, Bobblehead had written in chalk at an angle on the huge blackboard, the mathematical proof that had earned him the veto upon his admission. It had been more than six months since that day. How many times would that board have been erased since then? Maybe hundreds of times! And yet, the eraser had respected a mathematical demonstration written in chalk in the lower left corner of that huge blackboard. Scrawled with the poise given by genius or stupidity, there were the equations with which Bobblehead had tried to prove to the examining board that 0 + 0 = 4,731. (If he had looked more closely, he would have observed that, just below, there was a bronze plaque that said “Monument to human imbecility”).