The clock on the wall ticked on and on and on as Professor Myrtle Coleridge entered the 20th hour of her lecture. At least that’s how it felt to her students. What was she teaching them? Why was she still droning on? How many tangents could one woman possibly go on and on in one class period without ever sparking engagement? None of this truly matters for the purposes of our tale but the answer to all three is probably something dreadfully boring. But the student needed those sweet sweet credits so just like every morning they filed in and sat down in the lecture hall to meet the bare minimum requirement to pass this pass/fail class as even the teachers aide struggled to seem immersed.
Professor Coleridge took a sip of water and a deep breath to continue her lecture when suddenly…
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