My prose isn't just purple, it's plum....

[eredien]

*sigh* I have a ten page paper. I am on page three. It is an interesting paper--it's just that it's taking so long. And that I have another ten-page paper to still write.

Is there a little paddock outback of English house where they shoot all the English majors once their time is up, like horses in old Westerns?

Prof 1: "It's too late. We'll have to do away with her."
Prof 2: "Why, whatever for?"
Prof 1: "She admitted to me during a conference that she almost wrote the sentence, 'their personal senses of self are prevented from being lost in a nameless sea of faces' in her paper."
Prof 2: sorrowfully "Oh, dear. I suppose you're right. I'll get out the rifle."
Prof 1: "You know they moved it into the utility closet in the breakroom, right? Near the coffee machine."

Comments

[fangtsu.livejournal.com]

That is such a frightening possible thing. Here the English began nice and the seemingly overnight it became ultra-picky end exacting compaired to how it had been before.

the rifle

[signy1.livejournal.com]

Oh, dear. You have stumbled upon the English department's dirty little secret. There is indeed such a paddock, and that little graveyard out in Morris Woods is not, as it appears, an old family plot. It is full of the English majors who failed to conquer their darker impulses. I know this for a fact. I was reprieved at the very last minute myself- I committed a sentence with eleven clauses and an average word length of fifteen letters, and was only saved because of an impassioned plea from one of my other profs...

[fiddledragon.livejournal.com]

*giggles* That sounds disturbingly plausible.