Sorry I Was Late to Class Professor, My Service Rabbit Laid an Egg and Hatched Babies in My Room

Dearest Professor,

I hope you are enjoying your week! From the sounds of your Zoom recording, you seem a little tired and students are picking up on that by audibly snoring. Rough weekend? Bogged down in grading? “Why was I watching your Zoom recording?” You may ask. Well, I was not able to attend the first ten minutes of Monday’s class and for that I offer my sincerest apologies. As a frequent contributor to class discussions (I’m the person whose questions usually take up a quarter of the class time, if not more), I’m sure that my absence was felt. I do not pretend to comprehend the immense magnitude of the consequences of my actions, but I hope that sharing my reasons for missing these first ten minutes of class will offer some consolation. I take this class very seriously and it is with remorse that I had to miss the first ten minutes of your lecture on Thucydides. 

When I woke up Monday morning, I sprung out of bed, grabbed my book, and eagerly marched towards the door; I couldn’t wait for my PSCI *** lecture. As I was exiting the door, I took a quick glance at the mirror to make sure I looked appropriately pretentious and saw that right next to it, my service rabbit – 

serv·ice rab·bit

/ˈsərvəs , ˈrabət/

furry friend; privilege granted by the University of Pennsylvania abused by dysfunctional nineteen year olds for emotional support

– lay meek and bloody. My heart dropped. I simply cannot imagine what my life would be without my dear rapin’ lapine. Before Penn offered me a rabbit to walk on a leash while I pretend to be blind, my social anxiety was through the roof. I mean, people would perceive me and I just COULD NOT take it! You can imagine how distraught I felt when my Electric service Rabbit appeared injured. This time, my rabbit came before political science, it was a matter of life or death (mine). 

What I soon discovered was that this was only a matter of life or more precisely, rebirth. My rabbit had been confused by seeing people with black mascara in the shape of crosses on their heads and thought that Easter had come early. Think about when you pee a little bit when you see your husband, my rabbit had just laid an egg out of excitement. I had to take care of the little rat-like babies for those crucial ten minutes of your class that I missed. 

To conclude, I’m so sorry I missed your class. There are very few good excuses for missing your class. I mean, that girl whose mom died? Amateur. I’m sure at your age, you’ve seen lots of moms and dads die. In this day and age, maybe you’ve even seen some nonbinaries die! I assure you, I value the words of the ancients that you repeat so slowly – slowly enough for me to use my REM cycle to remember them – like I value the life of my own mother. Sparing my rabbit that morning actually proved my value of your class. Indeed, my little Electric service Rabbit is necessary for keeping me stimulated and focused (I have undiagnosed ADHD) during your class.

I hope you understand.

Most Devoutly,

Justine