Dr. Sinnerlove, or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love IMSA
When I woke up in the morning in my dorm at IMSA, I found myself staring at the business end of an alarm clock. I got up, got dressed, got ready, ate a large nourishing breakfast, and walked into my second class with plenty of time to spare.
“Well, Matt Shaft, P.I.,” my teacher said, “I hope you had a big sleep. Now, about your last story. I realize it was an adaptation, but it was so derivative that I could not differentiate it from the original!”
“Yo, Ma’am,” I replied. “It was my own work! Why you gotta be so ghetto about it?”
At that moment, a wild assailant, who I recognized as my arch-nemesis Yisong You, charged into the classroom. Knowing that I had to risk my neck for my brother man, I whipped out my Big Berthy (my gun, dontcha know) and proceeded to point it at an elevation of 25 degrees from the horizontal plane in the direction of Yisong.
“I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and fuuurious anger,” I loudly proclaimed, “those who attempt to poison and destroy my fellow IMSA students, and you will know that my name is SHAFT when I lay my vengeance upon thee!!”
Yisong looked rather astonished. “You mean John Shaft, the black private dick who’s a sex machine to all the chicks?!”
“No!! I mean MATT Shaft, the WHITE private dick who’s a sex machine to all the Czechs!”
Of course, then Kurnel Kontry had to bust in and give us a boot to the head for fighting. He belted out, “Why you gotta be so redneck? Now play nice ya’ll.”
“Not good, not good,” muttered my classmate Xiao Tsai. “DUMP!”
“Word to your mother,” I responded as Yisong and I took our seats. There was peace in the Middle West for now, but I knew that Yisong and I would have to confront each other again sometime before the end of this story.
I went to my next class, Biochemix. My professors, Triple D and Dr. Horrell: The Ride were busy trying to explain to Katherine Lorentzen the definition of a “word.” I went in and sat down beside my droogs: Yogesh “The Body” Raut, Wangoman, and Prince Nick Fibonacci of Rupprecht. “Look!” exclaimed Wangoman, as another student entered the class. “It’s abhorred! No, it’s insane! No, it’s UR-man!”
Dan the Man Macdaddy Stud Urman came up to us and said, “I should be pimping the field.”
“Yo, UR-man,” my droogs and I replied. “Why you gotta be so ghetto?”
Urman sat down. The rest of our class filed in. The Incredibly Strange Creature Who Stopped Living and Became a Wenchen on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown was the first. Next came Little Tamer Burning Bright, and his roommate, John “Fat Aggressor” Carrino. De Huang came in and sharpened his diamond pencil.
“Well, class,” Triple D announced, “today I’m going to make an assumption that we’re going to learn something.”
“It’s wrong,” Dr. Horrell added, “but we’ll correct it later.”
“That’s mathematical nonsense!” Prince Nick exclaimed.
“Anyway, today we’re going to be observing reactions with liquid nitrogen,” said Triple D cheerily. “De, would you like to volunteer?”
“Sure,” De said, rolling up his sleeves and preparing to plunge his hand into the canister.
“De!” Triple D exclaimed. “What voodoo are you doing so badly?”
“Oops. Sorry,” apologized De. Instead, he dipped a banana into the mix. When he pulled it out it was frozen solid. Next, he tried to eat it. “Dude!” he said as he turned blue and his teeth started to fall out, “that’s cold.”
All of a sudden, Yisong rushed into the classroom. “You’re not supposed to be here!” said Triple D.
“Not only that,” added Dr. Horrell, “you’re 15 minutes late!”
“Yo!” Yisong screamed desperately. “Shaddap or I’ll bust a cap in yo a-”
“I’ve got it!” Katherine exclaimed. “It’s what I’m saying right now!”
“One moment!” cried Triple D. “Just who do you think you are?”
“I’m You!” replied Yisong. “Who do you think you are?”
“I’m Triple D! I teach chemistry! At the Illinois Math and Science ‘Cademy!” Triple D rapped in response.
Carrino busted out with his fat aggression. Yisong thinned him with two slugs to the head. Xiao had been working on a formula for cheating at Starcraft all this time. “I’m a genius!” he proclaimed, as he finally finished working it out. Yisong quickly finished him off also. Xiao had dumped his last dump.
Even though there was danger all about, I didn’t cop out. “Hey, You!” I yelled. “You wanna piece of me! Do you feel lucky, punk? Do ya?”
“Huh?” said Todd Weber.
Dr. Horrell intervened. “All right, this story started out well enough, but then it just got too silly. Now, not many people enjoy a good laugh as well as I do, except for my wife, and some of her friends. In fact, most people enjoy a good laugh more than I do, but that’s not the point. Now, you’re both after Xiao’s formula, right?” He strolled over to Xiao’s desk and picked up the formula.
“I’ll write the formula on the bottom of Triple D’s lab coat.” He did so, and placed the coat in the middle of the lab table. “Do you find this method unsound?”
“We don’t see any ... method at all,” I answered.
“Help!” screamed Triple D, now completely disrobed.
Yisong and I looked at each other, and started to slowly back away from each other. Dr. Horrell retreated to the other side of the classroom. I looked at Yisong. He looked back. Horrell looked at Yisong. I looked at Horrell. Yisong and I reached for our Big Berthys. Suddenly, we drew.
But Horrell was too fast. He whipped out the frozen banana and hurled it at Yisong, striking a fatal blow. Yisong fell in slow motion, bleeding profusely. “The Horrell,” he muttered with his last breath. “The Horrell.”
“Hey,” whined De, picking up the banana. “This banana’s covered with blood!”
“Forget it, De,” Yogesh “The Body” said, leading him away from the scene. “It’s Arbor.”
