Coach Quinn furiously jotted on his parchment, the quill grasped tightly in his right hand. His office reeked of sulfur and ash, dread thick in the air like a Pleistocene tar pit. The candles had long turned to glowing wax stalagmites on his desk — he’d been at this for many, many hours now.
His parchment was littered with diagrams and figures, statistics and stick figures. While he always took his evaluations with utmost gravity, he made sure to carve out moments of lightness to maintain his own wits. In the bottom right hand corner was a hastily drawn doodle of a prairie dog wearing a top hat.