“Mrs. Right, is Mrs. Beautiful on her way? I’m a bit nauseous; I’ve lost control of all of my senses,” Dr. Supreme snaps out.
“Is this any way to talk to your loyal assistant Dr. I. M. Supreme? You’re going home right now and retire to bed,” scolds Mrs. I’m So Beautiful as she enters the offices.
“Oh, hello love. I’m sorry, I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” he replies as he gathers his jacket and gold-laden parasol, his second most prized possession from his trip around the world.
As they wave good-bye to everyone, the senior couple leaves with the educator not returning for the balance of the week. “Man, that must have been some good shit,” I thought. I’m clueless because I don’t need that fucking crap in my system. Then I wonder, ‘how does crap fuck’?
I walk out of the office with Mrs. Jokester by my side. We need to deliver some reports to the registrar downstairs before the end of the day.
“Good job, ma’am” I snicker as we both try to contain ourselves. “Damn fine job, KennyGene. I can’t wait to get home and tell Mr. Quarterback” as we brag to each other while strolling down the back hall to our final destination.
And so another day comes to an end within these balls of ivy. I suspect this is why we call it higher education...kG
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