Alright eggheads–the jig is up. It’s time to put down your stethoscopes and your microscopes and your lab-coats and turn your attention to me, because I have Demands and I will not rest until they have been answered.
Last night I discovered incontrovertible evidence of a sordid affair. In my own marital bed, the very place where my precious son Sebastian was conceived, I found the following items: a beaker, a petri dish, a used prophylactic, and a commemorative t-shirt from the Keck faculty crab feed of 2011.
What else am I to make of this, oh faculty of the Keck Science Department, than that one among you has fucked my wife, and made a cuck of me? There are not sufficient words in the English language to describe my rage, my fury, at having my manhood defiled so–and not by a real man, like a firefighter or an airline pilot, but by some four-eyed science freak? Fuck.
You probably thought you could get away with it, too. But alas, you have taken a dip in the wrong pond, buddy. That’s right: I’m a nationally ranked Bass Fisherman and I’m nobody’s fool.
So now I cast out my line, and soon I will have the perpetrator of this terrible crime caught, hook in mouth. But it’s not too late for some diplomacy. To the innocent and pure among the Keck faculty, I Demand that you turn over this rat, this snake in your midst so that I may destroy him.
I implore you to comply, lest you all find yourselves caught in my net, and face a wrath which no fishing metaphor can adequately capture.
You have 72 hours.