Not Great

As David sat in the back of class trying his best to figure out a way short of cutting out his own tongue or wiring his jaw shut, to prevent him from saying something stupid and accidentally killing someone by calling them shit for brains or some other jab that had become reflexive for him.

David was so caught up with his own thoughts and worries that he didn't realize the professor was calling on him to answer her question. She glowered at him with a grandmotherly glare that could put the fear of God into any student, or at least the fear of their GPA taking a nosedive.

Ms. Eveline Myers, the English Literature department head, was known for being tough and tenured. With only the dean and university president above her, she had no need to teach classes but enjoyed watching students squirm under her gaze. It gave her a thrill like no other, though she framed it as mentoring the next generation.

Her impeccably pressed powder blue pantsuit and hairstyle (which hadn't changed since the 80s) did little to detract from her icy, nearly malevolent demeanor. The only reason David had survived her class for so long was that he knew how to melt her exterior with compliments and expert flattery, allowing glimpses of her more grandmotherly softer side.

But today, his usual tools seemed to do more harm than good. Taking a deep breath, David decided to do something he rarely did, tell the truth: "I'm sorry... I've been dealing with some major changes in my personal life and was too stuck worrying about it. I missed your question. Would you please repeat it?"

Ms. Myers stared at him with such frustration that she seemed like she might spontaneously combust, but knowing that in this day and age, with students having cellphones, she held her tongue to avoid a scandal.

If she berated David and gave him the tirade she wanted to deliver, tenure or no, there would be consequences, at the very least, she'd lose her chance to torment students. She missed the old days when she could humiliate someone in front of the entire class but now had to settle for one-on-one 'lectures'.

In her clipped tone reserved for letting a student know they were on her shit list, Ms. Myers said: "You shall stay after class so we may discuss whatever upheavals you are facing... and hopefully find a solution." Which was code for: "You're staying after class, and I'm going to lecture you until I lose my voice or you drop out of University all together, whichever comes first."

David thought that's what she meant from the expression on her face, which was halfway between an apoplectically enraged boar and a tremendously livid toad. The rest of class passed slowly for him, feeling like he was heading for the hangman's noose.

When the bell finally rang, signaling his doom, David dejectedly collected his things as he made his way to the front of class. Ms. Myers stood there arms crossed, as if to say she was even more cross for making her wait a second longer than necessary.

Once David was standing before her, she beckoned him to follow with a terse "come" as she led him to her office in the adjoining room. When the door closed behind him, Ms. Myers spun on her heels faster than expected from someone 68 years old and asked in her signature icy tone: "What do you have to say for yourself?" Each word came out harsh and clipped, like she was furious with the words themselves as much as she was with David.

David knew he had to say something, but he was terrified of triggering the curse. He stood before Ms. Myers, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he struggled to find the right words that wouldn't land him in even more trouble...