POV: you are Mr. Fairly, dashing hero of the Tech hordes, strutting down the school’s hallways in style. You hear a delicate whisper in your ear, and turn towards the sound. Behind you stands the official winner of the “Class Clown” Superlative, your greatest enemy and dearest villain. Instinct tells you to lean closer, but propriety forces you to take a step back. Breathless, you ask, “What more do you want from me?” Your heart beats faster. “Just this…” they say, and tape a D.I.L.F. sign to your t-shirt. As they walk away, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
D.I.L.F? You find yourself thinking. What does that mean? Then, it dawns on you. Your chest hitches as you draw in a breath. You release it on a deep sigh, along with the words, “Dedicated & InteLlectual Faculty. D.I.L.F.” Despite many semesters of rivalry, your greatness is finally a topic of celebration instead of condemnation.
THEN, out of nowhere–Your eight-pack twitches in warning before you are suddenly wedgied by a monstrously tall Senior. No! Why?! you ask yourself as your papers are sent scattering to the floor. “Nice shirt, nerd,” the hairy man-boy says before turning a corner.
Flash-forward: It’s two months later. You pick up a copy of The Scribble, Tech’s illustrious and very-true student newspaper. On the front page it reads, “Mr. Fairly Finds Out the True Meaning of DILF and Announces His Retirement (Spoiler Alert: It’s Not Dedicated & InteLlectual Faculty).” You know you have finally been beaten. You head to the main office for one last announcement on your favorite loudspeaker: You’re Retiring.