Dear Cthulhu: Issue #22

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Dear Cthulhu,

I’m a straight C student. Unfortunately I’m the child of two overachievers. Both my parents were valedictorians of their high school class. My mom’s a rocket scientist. My dad is a brain surgeon. They are constantly on my case about my grades, trying to motivate and force me to work harder, telling me that I’m never going to get into a decent college. This despite the fact that I really do study hard. The problem is I was diagnosed with dyslexia and I have trouble reading. However, I excel in areas they never did. I’m the pitcher for my school’s baseball team and can throw a 92 MPH fastball. I’m also class president and a member of the chess club. My parents taught me the game soon after I was able to walk. It’s the one area where I’m actually better than the two of them. Whenever we play these days, I set up two boards and play them both at the same time. I haven’t lost since I was eight.

For years, I pointed out that I’m good enough to get a scholarship to college for baseball, which likely means they would overlook C grades. I would also qualify for a scholarship for chess. They’re few and far between, but they do exist. It wasn’t enough for them.

Because of cuts in federal funding, when teachers retired at my school, they didn’t replace them. Instead, existing teachers had to double up, so my math and science teacher was the same woman, Ms. “Galore”. Ms. Galore is also the faculty advisor to the chess club. A few months back, on my 18th birthday, I was the only one on the chess team who made nationals. I spent a lot of time with Ms. Galore practicing and we became very close. I even gave her a shoulder to cry on when her husband divorced her for a college cheerleader.

The chess club raised enough money for me and one other person to travel to Las Vegas for nationals. I asked my parents to go. Mom was working on a reusable rocket design for a private corporation and Dad had been asked to give a talk at the local elementary school on career day, so they both said no. Despite all their other accomplishments, I honestly think there are some jealousy issues on their part. They met playing chess and I’ve been a better player than the two of them combined since I was a kid.

So I asked Ms. Galore and she said yes.

Despite all the raised money, there was only enough to pay for one hotel room and we had to share.

The night before the tournament I was real nervous and couldn’t stop pacing. Ms. Galore suggested we play a game of chess to calm me down. I beat her in twelve moves and didn’t stop pacing the whole time.

Ms. Galore had been trying to teach me to play with distractions, so she suggested we play strip chess. It was like a dream come true. Ms. Galore was the hottest woman I’ve ever seen in real life. It worked because I lost my shirt in the first game, but after that I beat the pants off her. Then the blouse and bra. I was distracted again and had lost everything but my boxers before I starting winning again and finally beat her thong off her, leaving her naked.

She stood to give me a congratulatory hug. When I stood my boxers had a very distinct shape. Ms. Galore looked down and smiled and the hug ended up leading to something else much more intimate and wonderful.

The next day at the national chess tournament, not only did I win, but I did it in record time. I was motivated. Ms. Galore promised to let me try anything I wanted with her if I won the tournament and I was in a hurry to take her up on the offer.

I got a trophy and a small award ceremony when I got back to the school. The tournament was in November and ever since then my grades in math and physics jumped to perfect scores.

My parents were thrilled, although they still give me grief over my other C classes. I’ve gotten several scholarship offers for both chess and baseball. One of the chess scholarships would even let me bring my coach up to the college level with me. And I’m seriously considering bringing Ms. Galore, because not everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, although she is refusing to go to prom with me. Afraid of losing her job and teaching license.

The problem is I know I didn’t earn those As, at least in the traditional sense. I’m torn about whether or not I should confess, but I don’t want anything to happen to Ms. Galore or to lose my scholarship offers. And I would love to bring her to college with me to keep me motivated, but the baseball scholarship is to a better school and covers everything, while the chess one only covers tuition.

What should I do?

—Chess Player in Cleveland

 

Dear Chess,

You may be thinking with the wrong body part. Confession will do nothing positive for anyone involved. You did earn you grades even if it was not in the traditionally accepted way. For centuries men have been trading money, prestige and other favors to women in return for procreational acts. In recent years, women have been getting in on the act. You seemed pleased with the results and were not forced, so keep your mouth shut.

Cthulhu recommends not bringing Ms. Galore to college with you. You may meet someone your own age that you want to procreate with. Or you may both decide that you are both in the nonsense called love and want to be together, which would still get her fired, as few colleges will let their staff procreate with students. Since you are no longer her student, you might be able to formally date her.

Also it might be disturbing to you if she meets other men at the college closer to her age and decides to teach them how to work through distractions the same way she did with you.

Have a Dark Day

 

 

Dear Cthulhu welcomes letters and questions at DearCthulhu@dearcthulhu.com. All letters become the property of Dear Cthulhu and may be used in future columns. Dear Cthulhu is a work of fiction and satire and is © and ™ Patrick Thomas. All rights reserved. Anyone foolish enough to follow the advice does so at their own peril. For more Dear Cthulhu get the collections Cthulhu Knows Best; Dear Cthulhu: Have A Dark Day; and Dear Cthulhu: Good Advice For Bad People from Dark Quest Books.

 

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