Over The Head

But there was still the issue of Vladimir's mentor. His sick leave had extended to the point of arousing suspicion, though, fortunately, many of the employees of Monsanto Hall don't teach any classes.

I contacted him and informed him of my success, of Vladimir's downfall, in even more excrutiating detail than I gave to you, my readers; while you are always one click away from relief, he was neurologically incapable of telling me to stop. Maybe there's something to this arbitrary brain damage thing....

Rather than reveal Vladimir, thereby indicting himself, he chose to make use of the last of the compoundon himself, in hopes that it might stimulate growth in the lesioned area. With the trigger signal destroyed, he requested that I "administer the necessary head trauma". So I did.

And, you know what, I think I may be satisfied for a while. I cannot describe to you the joy I take in beating people, as seldom as it occurs in my life. However, I think I've reached my limit for a while. I beat my imbecilic foriegn roommate over the head with a steel potato cannon, I beat his megalomanic alter-ego over the head with a computer monitor, and now I've finally lived my dream; I got to beat a Wash U faculty member over the head using a paperweight from his own desk.

There's not enough aerosol in the world to cause the kind of brain damage I have, and I'm glad to say I'm satisfied in knowing that. There's really only one person in the world that I would even consider beating over the head, and trust me, it's on my Things To Do Before I Die-list.


In other news, I'm still a student at this goddamn school, which means final projects and papers are due. Let us all have a guess how much work I've done on them.

So, once more, with feeling:

That is all.