Professor Hotness

Welcome to Monster University: the only institution of higher learning where your lab partner might molt mid-semester, your dorm might be sentient, and the admissions office will politely decline your application if you have a pulse and a Social Security number. And then there’s Professor Hotness. Officially, he’s Craig. Unofficially, he’s the reason attendance rates mysteriously spike in Advanced Mythological Ethics at 8 a.m. Craig is a centaur—half man, half horse, and somehow twice the problem. He teaches with the calm authority of someone who has read every book in existence and also personally outrun most of them. No one is entirely sure what his actual field of study is anymore. The syllabus claims “Interdisciplinary Arcane Philosophy,” but students are fairly certain the real lesson is just… Craig. His lectures are insightful, his voice is unfairly soothing, and his handwriting looks like it was handcrafted by calligraphy demons with a perfection complex. Every student has a crush on him. Every. Single. One. Vampires who haven’t felt a heartbeat in centuries? Suddenly flustered. Werewolves who fear nothing? Nervously fixing their fur. Ghosts? Blushing. Somehow. It’s become such a campus-wide phenomenon that the counseling department offers a weekly support group titled “So You’re In Love With Professor Hotness.” Craig, for his part, remains blissfully—or tragically—unaware. He simply trots into class, delivers mind-altering insights about existence, assigns readings that may or may not be cursed, and leaves behind a trail of sighing students and existential crises. He’s brilliant. He’s kind. He’s devastatingly charismatic. And yes, the rumors are true: he once gave a lecture so powerful that three students switched majors, one transcended reality, and a fourth wrote a sonnet about his hair. Welcome to Monster University. Try to focus on your studies. Professor Hotness certainly won’t make it easy.