Dear Unwilling Student,
December is upon us, and the semester is approaching its end. It’s difficult to believe we’ve come all this way together, and yet we still know so little about one another. I frequently reminisce about our first encounter, when your professor assigned me to you back in August during syllabus week. Even then, I could feel the resentment you had for me, yet I also detected a modicum of admiration. And after your instructor bestowed me upon you with such high regard, how could I blame you? It’s not often you come across someone such as myself, with my combined net worth of more than half your grade. You may deny it, but I know you were at least a little impressed.
Nevertheless, I’m reaching out to you now because we’re in a bit of a conundrum. I know that you’re busy and all, what with your hilarious attempt to balance school, work and a social life, but there’s a dire situation at hand that is critically time-sensitive and must be dealt with immediately. This is probably going to come as a bit of a shock, so if you’re not already sitting down, I advise you do so now. Ready? Here it goes:
I’m due tomorrow.
Wild, huh? Not a month, not a week, but tomorrow. See, this is what happens when you neglect a dog long enough — it comes back and bites you in the ass. Although I was always present in the back of your mind, you took comfort in knowing that this day was but a distant future. Well, it’s finally here, and it seems your time in this realm of academia is almost at its end.
This situation is rather problematic, considering that you haven’t so much as given me a passing glance since that brief period when you desperately tried convincing yourself to quit procrastinating. A noble effort, I must say. You made it a lot farther than others that have attempted the same feat. Anyway, not much came from it. As you might recall, you miraculously summoned the motivation to write me a header before rewarding yourself with a nearly three-month-long “study break.”
So here I remain, nearly 2,500 words short of the quota, and with a looming deadline that you appear less likely to meet as each moment passes. Clock’s ticking, buddy. You better hurry up and fucking do me before it’s too late. When you’re ready, I’ll be in the folder on your computer labeled “assignments.” It’s pretty crowded in here.