A few good Kegs

(fade in to a stately looking lecture hall, rain is pounding the windows and thunder crashes sporadically)

professor: ...you, Mr....um...Smyth? Can you tell me what Rousseau was getting at in the readings?

student: Well sir, I didn't get quite that far in the--

prof: Dammit! I'm tired of your excuses. Everyday you walk into this classroom sleepy-eyed and unprepared. Not once have you come up anything that even remotely resembled an answer.

stu: You want answers?

prof: I think I'm entitled to one.

stu: You want answers?!

prof: I want the truth!

stu: You can't handle the truth!! (dramatic pause) Sir, we live in a world that has parties, and these parties have to be attended by men with cups. Who's gonna do it? You? You Mr. Teaching Assistant? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You read your little textbooks and you curse the fraternities. You have that luxury; you have the luxury of not knowing what i know: that my partying, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. We use words like "keg-stand"," beer-bong", "shotgun." We use these words as the backbone of a life spent drinking something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time, nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps underneath the blanket of the very inebriation that I provide. I'd rather you said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a mug, and start to chug. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!

prof: Did you fail to do the work?

stu: I did my job, I'd do it--

prof: DID YOU FAIL TO DO THE WORK?

stu: YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT I DID!