Office Hours; Office #11. Wednesday [ 07/14 ].
After yesterday's class, Farnsworth was feeling much better about things as a whole. Teaching, it turned out, wasn't really that bad or even that difficult. In fact, it was proving to be far more enjoyable terrifying students with the reality of a class than just merely threatening them with the suggestion of one.
So Farnsworth had, on his desk, what looked like a microwave, but it had been affixed with a lot of tubes and wiring and computer chips, as well as something that looked a bit like a coconut. He was fiddling with it, trying to improve the device and most likely winding up making something that could threaten the fate of the world if placed in the wrong hands.
But he was 165, here, and he wasn't getting any younger. He'd be damned if he was going to wait three seconds for a damn Pop Tart.
[[ door? post? Open! ]]
So Farnsworth had, on his desk, what looked like a microwave, but it had been affixed with a lot of tubes and wiring and computer chips, as well as something that looked a bit like a coconut. He was fiddling with it, trying to improve the device and most likely winding up making something that could threaten the fate of the world if placed in the wrong hands.
But he was 165, here, and he wasn't getting any younger. He'd be damned if he was going to wait three seconds for a damn Pop Tart.
[[ door? post? Open! ]]