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Jake

Jake’s work-study career begins with a daylong research mission from which, haplessly, he returns with a single book.

His professor indicates her extant copy.

“Ah,” says Jake.

“Pothead,” she scribbles in his assessment file.

As a sophomore he scrambles to avoid envelope-stuffing at the admissions office; juniorhood sees him laundering resigned jockstraps for eight dollars a week. But oh, sweet senior sinecure! Jake finds himself richly compensated for cleansing the occasional froshgirl laptop, and armed with the master key to their dorm.

“How may we too prosper, Master?” ask his disciples.

“Fuck up until somebody promotes you,” Jake intones.

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