Tagged: professor

I Boarded The Upper Level

by jenWhile digging through folders full of old writing, we turned up some ancient prompts and decided to share them. We’ll return to the chain story next week.

  • a shoplifter
  • the Eiffel Tower
  • a bucket of hair clippings
  • psychological experiment

I boarded the upper level of the double-decker elevator along with Professor Coiffeur and my fellow doctoral candidates from the psych department. My backpack was heavy and uncomfortable. When we reached the lower observation deck, we all exited the stuffy box. Most of the tourists stayed on the ride up to the top for a better view of the city. Professor Coiffeur moved over to the railing around the inner opening in a very businesslike manner, and waited for us to join him.

“We are all prepared, oui?” he asked.

“Oui oui!” we answered in unison. We were all very excited about today’s experiment.

“Then let us begin.”

The professor unzipped my pack and lifted the bucket out. Half of the grad students reached in and gathered huge handfuls of the hair clippings. The other half readied their cameras and notebooks.

On the professor’s command, those of us with fistfuls of hair began walking up to the tourists and offering it to them. The others made careful observations, hoping that the observed reactions would follow the predicted pattern.

Stage 2 of the experiment had us touching the hair to strangers’ cheeks without asking permission. That went as poorly as expected and we quickly moved to Stage 3 which entailed upending the bucket over the railing, dumping all of the remaining hair clippings down on the unsuspecting crowds below, and observing the chaos.

It was a very satisfying day of scientific enquiry. To reward myself for devising such a successful experiment, I pocketed an Eiffel Tower key ring for every member of the team on my way back to the elevators, plus some chocolate for myself.

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The Assignment Had Me Worried

  • elements of forbidden sex and lurid mutilations
    k-avatar
  • no idea how much blood
  • full of glassy accusation
  • sometimes I get overzealous
  • never written a vampire story before

The assignment had me worried about my GPA. I had never written a vampire story before, so I had no idea how much blood there really was supposed to be, or how blatantly to handle the elements of forbidden sex and lurid mutilations. But when I asked Professor Kerensky for some guidance, he glared at me and said, “These are the very things you are to learn by doing this assignment,” his voice full of diesel fuel and his eyes full of glassy accusation. So I kicked him in the shin. When it comes to my GPA, sometimes I get overzealous.

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“Speaking of Prison Cells”

  • by jenBut this involves a contradiction
  • we stayed home and did our lovemaking in bed
  • Professor Palgrave had found 288 lyrics
  • speaking of prison cells
  • and I am not a walking corpse
  • Happy Birthday to you!

“Speaking of prison cells,” said Professor Palgrave, “once my wife and I were arrested for public indecency. Let me tell you, after spending a few hours in police custody, we wished we stayed home and did our lovemaking in bed!”

His grad students chuckled and blushed at the thought of the portly professor in such a predicament, though he was the best teacher in the music department.

Professor Palgrave had found 288 lyrics to unreleased John Lennon songs in a shoe box at an auction in Liverpool, England, thus cementing his notoriety among his students, and in the music press.

“But this involves a contradiction, this story of yours, Professor,” said one of the newer students. “I thought you said you weren’t married.”

“And I am not a walking corpse, either,” said the professor grumpily. “But I feel like one sometimes. My wife left me shortly after the unfortunate incident I just related to you. She couldn’t stand the shame. She left on my birthday of all days.”

“Well, Happy Birthday to you!” said his teaching assistant sarcastically. “That’s pretty heartless.”

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Devlin du Mauvais Addressed the Lecture Hall

  • by jenwe will use the celebrated diagonal method
  • “just another human being”
  • blur the distinction
  • Jeepers creepers!
  • there is nevertheless always some intangible abstract quality
  • Indeed, the brains of anteaters

Devlin du Mauvais addressed the lecture hall full of nubile coeds and continued his thought, “There is nevertheless always some intangible abstract quality that allows a demon to tell exactly what it is dealing with. ‘Just another human being’ it will think, its amorality allowing it to blur the distinctions we humans make amongst ourselves. Demons care not whether we see ourselves as good or worthy of salvation. Indeed, the brains of anteaters hold more interest for them than do the minds of humankind.”

Jeepers creepers! thought Edna Calfdimple from the doorway where she lurked, eavesdropping. He’s so handsome! I have to take this class next semester.

Dr du Mauvais dismissed the class, and Edna lurked until all the students left, hoping to pluck up the courage to speak to the dashing professor. But before that happened, a trio of sultry raven-haired women entered the lecture hall and surrounded Dr du Mauvais with their identicalness, cooing and touching him.

“Tonight darling brother,” they said in unison, “we will use the celebrated diagonal method.”

Edna blushed furiously and fled.

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Professor Turkovsky Called His Apprentice

  • by jengreat white eyebrows
  • his long slender hand around his neck
  • grasshopper war cry
  • I will be old, ugly, stupid
  • a fantastic contraption
  • Proper diet? Sports? Cosmetics?

Professor Turkovsky called his apprentice, James, into his study. James stood before the professor, lanky and youthful and handsome, his long slender hand around his neck, scratching a bug bite.

“James, tell me, what is the secret of youthful beauty?” asked Professor Turkovsky. “Proper diet? Sports? Cosmetics?”

James nodded, uncertain.

“But those all require hard work, skill, and money!”

James shrugged.

“I have invented a fantastic contraption!” the professor chirped in a voice not unlike a grasshopper war cry. “It is like the fountain of youth! It will make me young again!”

“But what if it fails, Professor?” asked James in alarm.

“If it fails, I will be old, ugly, stupid.”

Before James could protest further, Professor Turkovsky flipped the power switch and grasped the handles. A smell of sickly sweet cotton candy filled the study as tendrils of yellow and orange electricity crawled over Turkovsky’s body.

James shook his head in dismay as he saw the great white eyebrows form on the professor’s face.

The experiment had failed.

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“Professor Hillcrest, I Believe You Are Mistaken”

  • k-avatartotal perspective vortex
  • hillcrest
  • defiantly
  • brilliant blaze of silence

“Professor Hillcrest, I believe you are mistaken.”

The class gasped at Ryan’s audacity while the professor met his unprecedented verbal challenge with a brilliant blaze of silence. The old man’s cold stare was malicious, but Ryan met it defiantly.

The battle of wills continued, with Hillcrest standing mutely in front of the chalkboard where his fallacious proof went unfinished, and Ryan standing resolutely on the small platform which the professor had, in his arrogance, labeled the Total Perspective Vortex – the only spot in the lecture hall from which a student was allowed to speak.

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Dr Clamdigger Strolled in the Gentle Surf

  1. k-avatarCharacter – oversexed physics professor
  2. Setting – tropical island
  3. Object – wasp
  4. Situation – splitting headache

Dr Clamdigger strolled in the gentle surf, admiring the student body. She acted aloof, but he knew she was admiring him, too, as she lay propped up on a towel halfway up the beach.

Yes, teaching physics at Cayman U was a great gig.

Dr Clamdigger altered course and placed his prodigious shadow over the coed’s bikini-clad torso (and, for the most part, her legs).

“You’re blocking the sun,” she protested petulantly.

“Impossible,” Dr Clamdigger said. “The sun is a star, a seething fusion reactor, while I am,” he ran his hand down his hirsute belly, “but flesh.”

“Well, Skipper –”

“That’s Professor!”

“– whatever. You might want to move.”

“So you can work on your tan lines?”

A volleyball ricocheted off Dr Clamdigger’s head. He swayed, but the sunbathing student didn’t flinch.

“Yeah, that too.”

Dr Clamdigger staggered into the waves and collapsed, not hearing the calls of, “Dude! Little help? That’s our ball!”

As the warm salt water lapped at his sides, Dr Clamdigger saw his nemesis chatting up the pretty student. It was Professor Henderson, showing off his pet wasps again.

Damn entomologists get all the chicks.

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