It’s the time of year where folks who are graduating start thinking about getting there hands on their T-ring. Not me, no sir. Upon graduation, I will walk across the stage with my “T” Brass Knuckles, because my CV will read Megan MacKay- Bad Ass.
Every step in my ascension to academic greatness will be one giant leap closer into becoming the toughest motherfucker of all time.
Equipped with my T-Nuks, I’ll get my masters degree, and to reward myself with a necklace of hand grenades, each one with a letter on them that reads M-A-S-T-E-R. Then the old Ceeve will read Megan MacKay-Bad Ass, Monster Arsenal. One woman academic assault rifle, blowing people’s minds.
Gods have mercy on the world should I pursue a PhD. I’ll purchase a full-on tank, spray paint DR PAIN on the side, and roll on down the street with the top up, screaming with laughter as I launch books from a potato gun.
Sleep sweetly while you can, citizens of earth. The demon lay dormant in her undergraduate for now, but one day, when you’re walking down the street and you get beaned off the side of the head by a Nietzche hardcover, you can’t say you weren’t warned.
