“Ladies and gentlemen of the class of 2009,” says Brett Johanssen, “congratulations. We made it.”
A cheer starts to rise but is cut short by a cry from the first row. “Not yet you haven’t!”
There’s a flurry of robes, and Vince McDonnaugh, the Guy Who Flunked Out, stands, sword in hand. A dozen graduates shoot to their feet, but Brett raises a hand. “What’s this, McDonnaugh?”
“This is you,” Vince points the sword at him, “and me, Johannsen.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You can’t,” and then McDonnaugh’s mortar board flies through the air, razor edges glinting.