Fred reached into a file folder and pulled out one single sticky note

“There is an attached reference that I feel illuminates the text quite a bit, a post-it note here—I call it Figure A—a very clever conclusion from my dearest teacher, states as so:"

Sir Abbot, you cannot turn in class assignments you have already turned in 7 years ago. You especially cannot turn in an assignment 6-million times in a 7 year period. Even if it happens to be on the same subject. Minus 10000 points for cheekiness. And its spelled GONZALEZ!!! 7 years and you're still making that infernal typo!!! You are intolerable!!! Because of your blatant disregard for authority and common sense, you are the WORST Alchemist the Pendleson Knights have ever seen—if we can even call you a real 'Alchemist,' at that!!! -Sir Marcus

“It contained about 12 exclamation points, so I assume that makes this quite credible despite my lack of bibliography." Fred gave a condescending bow to the board, who were so spent for words, they could only scowl. "And thus concludes my thesis.”

“Why the Hell do you think that would get you on the field trip to Indiana, Fred!” Sir Marcus yelled. “What does this tell us about what you'll be researching out there?”

“You already know what I'm researching, Sir Marcus, I've only been talking about it for a year! This stupid thesis is just a stupid waste of tim—”

“Sir Abbot, you may go now. But don't pack your bags.”

“Like I'd ever want to be stuck on some stupid field trip with you!” Fred spun on his heels and stormed out the door, leaving a long trail of tractor paper behind him.