The Bad Professor

The Bad Professor

1 cup of KAF coffee
1 shot of creamer
2 sugars
Leave to chill at room temperature

Mark arose from a short slumber; his piercing alarm broke the morning stillness, and thoughts of his 10A came rushing into his head. It was back to the daily grind; the nap had done nothing to assuage his all-nighter. Time for the lukewarm cup of coffee on his side table. Damn Professor Rockford and his monotonous droning voice…

• Add 1 shot of dark rum

Mark took a sip. Not bad. A warm sensation ran through his body. It was unseasonably cold out, and Professor Rockford was going to be late anyway. Although Mark hadn’t bothered to finish the egregiously large reading assignment, he knew he could feign his way through the quiz — he was positive Rockford feigned his way through the lectures with the help of Wikipedia.

• Add two drams of single-malt Scotch

Mark gulped down some more of his coffee. Maybe there would be no quiz. Last time, the Professor had gone on one of his tangential meandering digressions, and Mark had asked a question. Just to clarify, mind you. Given what he could parse from the consequent angry rant, Rockford had accused him of being a “racist dog.” Screw him, screw his class — in fact, make it a screwdriver!

• Add a shot of cheap vodka and some orange juice pirated from Foco

Tipsy, Mark almost booted when he thought of the rambling tenured professor. He was amazed the man could still teach, that the LSD had not rotted his brain, and that the College had hired a man who claimed to have the criminal record Rockford did. That was another thing: that windbag would not shut up about the “good old days” of the 1970s, when he had been a “hero of the people,” fighting The Man. Mark suspected that Rockford had actually spent that entire decade passed out in a public toilet stall. Well if Rockford could do it, so could he.

By Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein