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The Professor
Dr. Amelia Doss had been teaching undergraduate literature at that small Baptist college for as long as she could remember. Her students were not very fond of her and that was just fine with her because she was not that fond of them either. They were all technology-crazed delinquents that just thought she was some lame granny. These were the people who she was expected to educate on the wonders of the greatest art form in history. What were they thinking? She was an excellent professor. One of her “keys to success” was punctuality. She had her day perfectly planned in accordance with the dinging of the chapel bells.
Ding. Ding
Ding. Ding
Ding. Ding
It was 3’o clock. Dr. Doss had finished her teaching and was now, like always, on her way to do an hour of grading in her office. Today’s poison was the essay she had assigned on the southern gothic genre. She sat in her Harvard leather desk chair, pulled the stack of papers from the beige folder, and uncapped her red pen as if she were unsheathing a weapon. The time slowly ticked away and the essays were becoming increasingly painful to read. Between obvious plagiarism and just pure illiteracy, she could not stand it any longer. These brats could not care less about her class. What was their problem? She was an excellent professor.
Ding. Ding
Ding. Ding
Ding. Ding
Ding. Ding.
It was 4 o ‘clock. That meant it was time to go home and have a relaxing cup of tea. She was determined to find a way to end her suffering with these ungrateful, pathetic excuses for students. Of course, she could always retire. Maybe her time was just coming to an end. Wait. What was wrong with her? She was an excellent professor! Retirement was not an option for her. No, she would not be leaving because she was not the problem. Her students were the problem. That’s it! Her students were the problem, so she knew what her solution would be. She finished her tea and hurried upstairs to prepare for the next day.
Ding. Ding.
It was 9 o’ clock. Dr. Doss walked into her morning class with a new-found enthusiasm. “Good morning, students! I know the syllabus says that we will begin our unit on post-modernism today, but I thought we could have some real fun instead. That’s right, even a lame old granny like me can have some fun from time to time. It’s October! That means it’s the time for Halloween with all the pumpkins, the candy, and the murder. Oh, the murder stories that is! Let’s learn a little bit about Edgar Allan Poe, shall we? Yes, Mr. Poe will do nicely. Pass these around now. This is The Tell-Tale Heart. We are going to read it aloud in class. How fun! Then you will have an assignment on it, but do not fret. I am going to take the time to work on it with you in individual conferences. Am I an excellent professor or what? Notice the time written on the top of your handout and come to my office at the time. Not a moment too soon, not a moment too late. I cannot wait to see you all there!”
Ding. Ding
Ding. Ding
Ding. Ding
It was 3’o clock. The students would begin arriving. Dr. Doss got the lantern she had prepared, closed it all the way, and turned off the lights. There she waited until the first knock came. She sweetly told the student to come on in. The door knob slowly turned. Dr. Doss opened the lantern slightly and looked into the eyes of the confused young man. He screamed once.
4 o’clock.
5’o clock.
6’ clock.
The students kept coming and they all only screamed once. After the deed was done and their heart had stopped beating, Dr. Doss unsheathed her weapon and began the dismemberment. She pushed aside her Harvard leather desk chair and pulled up the floor boards. It took some puzzle work, but soon enough all the bodies were concealed and the floor boards were replaced ever so carefully. There was not a single stain left behind. Dr. Doss sighed with relief. She put her chair back in place, sat down, and had the most relaxing cup of tea. She was an excellent professor.
