HaddenIndustries
Experienced
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2006
- Posts
- 80
Recently, I've been obsessed with the idea of being turned into furniture. I imagine that during my office hours, a sorority girl drugs me and kidnaps me, after I refuse to raise her grade. She strips me naked, and ensconces me in a sort of transparent epoxy resin that hardens around me -- like a fly trapped in amber. I'm on my hands and knees. The resin in smoothed out into blocks, so that I've effectively become a table* Trapped inside, I can see what is going on, with only a small hole out of which to breathe. The girl's sorority uses me as a table during parties -- to hold drinks and snacks and such. I'm a trophy for them -- a way to one-up other sororities, and to raise their status. "Look what WE have! A professor we've turned into a table!" They bevel the Greek letters of the sorority on the top of the table. And they affix a small plaque to the edge of table which reads "Dumb Fuck Professor - 2012". A harbinger for those who mess with them. And I'm passed down from generation to generation of co-eds in the sorority, as property of Sigma Phi (or whatever). And that's my legacy. No contribution to academia. Instead, I'm forever naked, trapped, as a table. It's all I'm good for.
