A Dartmouth Student Read a Book for Fun All by Himself! Here’s What Happened

Monday, February 24th
It has been one day since I finished reading a book for fun. No professor assigned this task to me. I did it all by myself and I only called a lifeline thrice! I’m going to the class tomorrow, and, though I’d like to announce it to everyone in a glorious spectacle, I think I’ll try to underplay it so people can see how humble I am.

Tuesday, February 25th
I couldn’t help myself. As soon as I walked into class this morning, I didn’t see classmates — no, I saw nothing more than countless sets of ears who didn’t yet know how smart I was. I hopped up onto my desk and triumphantly delivered the good news. It was beautifully done, reminiscent of the Gettysburg Address if Lincoln had read a big boy book from the high shelf. Though I expected applause and cheering, I was met with silence and a ten-minute talk with my professor, who had been “getting complaints” about my “recent outbursts” and wanted me to “stop writing down” our “conversation.” I take it that my peers’ unenthusiastic response to my proclamation was simply a result of jealousy. Indeed, I know they are all envious of my big brain, which finished a 56 page chapter book in less than four months.

Sunday, March 1st
It has been one week since I accomplished my unthinkable feat. I have since acquired three cardigans, a pair of horn-rimmed spectacles, and a burning hatred for the uneducated.

Monday, March 2nd
I have dropped out of Dartmouth. The institution was beneath me, and no one seemed to appreciate the impromptu seminars I gave in FoCo during lunch. I spoke of the alphabet and its many letters (26 to be precise), as well as the complex and profound union of letters to create words, which are then put on paper to make the chapter book I finished all by myself. After it became clear that my imbecilic classmates had no interest in my wisdom, I decided that the College was not an appropriate environment for the exceptional capabilities of my brain. As a final act of defiance, I stood atop a table and delivered my favorite quote from the aforementioned award-winning novel I had the unique privilege of reading: “The sheep’s wool is white and rough. My hair is brown and soft. A bird is also here.”

Monday, March 16th
I have not vacated my chamber in a fortnight. I loathe the all-revealing rays of the Sun; they show all for whom they really are. I do not wish to be seen this way, to be an open book (a chapter book, as it were), for the revelation of the complicated phenomena and mind-bending paradoxes I contain would break the poor minds of the ignoramuses by which I am surrounded. The darkness is a blanket under which I can thrive, unhindered by the stupidity of humanity. In the inky blackness of night, I transcend my feeble human form. The Sun becomes but an insignificant orange dot in the sky. I do not orbit the Sun. The Sun orbits me.

Friday, March 20th
I have started an apprenticeship with some aspiring academics in the area. They enter the Palace of Profundity, or, in layman’s terms, “my apartment,” and we discuss questions of existence and purpose. We also read brief book excerpts, or “brain bites,” as I call them, which are typically one to two sentences each, as any more information would be dangerous for even the most advanced minds. Many of my apprentices have already made great strides. Jenny, 88, knows half of the alphabet and has the spinal curvature of a Moray eel. Gerald, 77, learned to stop biting me after a few days and now only bites himself and slower pedestrians. Jerry, 95, has been reciting the same episode of “Happy Days” under his breath since he got here.

Saturday, March 21st
O MERCIFUL LORD, WHY HAVE YOU LEFT US WITH SUCH ROTTEN FRUIT TO EAT? THE WATERS ARE COLD ON THE SHORE, THE LAND BURNS OUR FRAGILE SKIN. THE DEATH OF ALL THINGS HANGS OVER US LIKE A SPECTRE, AWAITING OUR DAY OF JUDGMENT. I AM THE BRINGER OF LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS. I AM THE MESSIAH. I AM THE MESSIAH.

Saturday, March 21st
Sorry about the last entry. Jerry sneaked in some extra brain bites and went haywire. He took my journal and locked himself in the closet for three hours. Animal Control had to come in and tranquilize him. His breakdown made me skeptical of this whole “knowledge” thing. I have since realized that a human brain (even one as divinely gifted as mine) can only take so much wisdom before it begins to self-destruct. So, I have decided to end all of my apprenticeships and swear off reading of any kind.

Epilogue
Jenny went on to somehow shatter her jaw while eating soup. Gerald went on to bite scores of people. He became so accomplished that he even had the privilege of biting the hand of the President and subsequently receiving a merciless beating from the Secret Service. After being tranquilized, Jerry became the oldest person ever to watch me through my window at night. I went on to have my stomach pumped a record eight times because I kept accidentally drinking battery acid. I thought it had been milk, but, without reading the label, there was no way for me to tell. I (and my peers at the ICU) have decided that it would probably be best for me to start reading again. And who knows? Maybe once I start to recover from all the battery acid brain damage, I’ll be able to read another book for fun.

– SH ’23