Disheveled and sleepy, Sam Arkin trudged into the computer science class room, ready to "teach", or at least talk about, english 28b, comic and tragic vision. His lesson plan consisted of reading a couple of pages of Titus Andronicus or The Bacchae, while musing to his class about how screwed up Dionysus was... or something like that. Before class he had just finished inhaling steroids into his weak lungs while gazing longingly at his dusty saxaphone in the corner of the room, and thus had no time to relieve himself before class.
Looking around, he noticed a man-child in a pink polo, looking rather resigned and humbled to be seen in such a lowly undergraduate class. "I'm a 5th year double majoring in classics and fantastical medieval civilizations," he proclaimed. His goatee twitched.
Next to him sat Scarecrow, from Batman and Cartier eyewear advertisement fame. He looked around pointedly, ready to exchange critical analysis gems of knowledge with anyone who dared make eye contact with him.
All of a sudden, Arkin noticed a certain shorter Asian girl wearing a Yale sweater staring rather intently at his shoes. Intrigued by the reppin' of his alma mater, he noticed that she seemed to be mouthing "Je t'aime" over and over again, with a fanatical glaze over her eyes. When Arkin off-handedly mentioned his ex-woman from New York, he saw her laughing uncontrollably, and then furiously scribbling in a small notebook. Slightly weirded out, Arkin headed over to Starbucks after class, to host office hours. Much to his horror, there the girl was again.
She tried to force feed him a croissant. He managed to get out of the way of the buttery snack, brushing the flakes off his shirt. She tried to share a chai latte with him. He refused to participate. People were starting to stare. Finally, with a desperate glance around the room, she got down on one knee and proposed. Unable to take it anymore, he ran out the door. Needless to say, meeting with students to go over analytical essays was no longer a priority.
1 comment:
David, shouldn't you be studying instead of fabricating a ridiculous story to cover up the trails leading to your Arkin shrine?
Also, I don't appreciate you referring to me as a "shorter asian girl." Not only due to its lack of proper grammar (typical and expected), but also due to its complete disregard of my more prominent features, e.g. my beautiful hair, my unprecedented sense of style, and just my overall superiority to most living things (some inanimate objects I willingly surrender my supremacy to, including but not limited to: Burt's Bees, carne asada fries, snooze buttons). Thus, I must determine your post to be utter nonsense; some may even conclude it to be poppycock and/or balderdash. I cannot say I disagree with them. I bid you adieu.
Lovingly,
Diane
PS: on previous, not to mention fantastically romantic, dates, he has expressed his general liking of croissants and other French pastries--get your facts straight if you want to become a journalist!
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