Brian Schmidt's face distorted like Frankenstein

Frankenschmidt

Graphic: Jonathan Tjandra

It was a dreary night of July that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety that almost compared to that of exam week, I collected the instruments of strife around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless professor that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; TurnItIn was down and I was out of Red Bull when, by the glimmer of my laptop screen, I saw the dull blue eye of the creature open. It breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.

How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe? “Oh, big mood,” I exclaimed, gazing upon the wretch. His memes were spicy, and I had selected his shitposts to be beautiful. Beautiful! – Great God! His pale skin scarcely covered the magnificent brain I had crafted, full of innovation and promise. The creature sat up and spoke:

“Hark!” He cried. “My name is Frankenschmidt, and I am here with a bold new vision for this university!”

“Excuse me, demoniacal creature, but is it not I that am Frankenschmidt?” I posited. He cast me down.

“We don’t have time for semantics,” he declared. I cowered beneath his radiance and conceded to his almighty decree. With the wave of a hand he obliterated Union Court, and so it was that construction would reign for many a long semester.

I passed the night wretchedly. Frankenschmidt spoke of his vlog as the Heavens opened and flooded the town, obliterating the records of my miserable work. I thought to make complaint on this injustice, as it was only through the destruction of Union Court that the floodwaters had been able to rise to my lodging, but before I could finish my protest the creature had vanished, galloping into the night towards the vineyards beyond.

“Begone, Brian!” I cursed to his retreating back. “Perish!”

Oh! How anguished was I, cruel creator, to have brought this presence into the world of man! I gazed into the night and ruminated on my damned actions. I had worked hard for two nights, for the sole purpose of passing this course. For this I had deprived myself of rest and Netflix, even foregoing the festivities at Mooseheads so that I may accrue at least a credit. But all had been for nought. I had let loose on the campus a fiend that did not rest until it was satisfied. To what end would that be? When would the beast be sated?

Morning, dismal and foggy, at length dawned. I made my way to the Pop-Up Village, avoiding the curious eyes of my fellows, and wandered in search of decently priced coffee. Having found none, I sat beneath a gum tree and observed the comings and goings of undergrads, their constitutions alight with promise. Everywhere on campus I saw bliss, from which I alone was irrevocably excluded.

I dictated a post on my misfortune to my mobile device, and, lo, did I receive angry reacts. By afternoon the news of my creature had spread, and henceforth I would lose the respect of my peers, five percent every working day. Hear my tale, kind stranger, and take heed: I was once benevolent and good; academia made me a fiend. Release me from HECS, and I shall again be virtuous.