When teachers diagnose upperclassmen with senioritis-like symptoms (drowsiness during class, rashes of “mi” all over progress reports, vomiting centipede larvae), students typically dismiss the accusations as mere allergies.

 

Senioritis, like a relationship, cannot be cured by going to the nurse’s office though; it is a full-time commitment. Missing assignments won’t discover themselves (unless they spend 11 years in solitary confinement), but there is a certain someone who can find anything anywhere.

 

This legendary doctor can unearth any missing assignment, whether it’s buried at the bottom of a backpack, lost in a mineshaft of abandoned dreams in Reno, or inside a booby-trapped Aztec temple in Detroit. His name is Dr. Nevada Jones Ph.D, and he is the cousin of the arguably more legendary Indiana Jones.

 

Nevada will soon star in his own movie now that Disney has inherited the rights to Star Wars and Indiana Jones. He will probably even get his own franchise-ruining sequel featuring aliens and Shia Labeouf.

 

While the elusive doctor is usually out on a mission recovering Malaysian planes or Miley’s innocence, he comes back to his alma mater Clark High School occasionally for important events like assemblies for the basketball team or when slacking students need his help to find their missing work.

 

Nevada Jones knew ever since he passed his 11th grade writing proficiency that he was destined to be an archaeologist devoted to finding assignments students try to make teachers believe they actually did.

 

One time, after discovering a poster assignment that a senior student’s dog ate, Jones said, “The first key was locating the beast. I knew where to look because I followed Nicholas Cage’s treasure map on the back of the Declaration of Independence, which he stole from the Russians, but that’s another story.”

 

The map pointed him to the dog which pointed him to its belly which pointed him to a bush which pointed him to the dog’s feces which pointed Jones to the poster. Naturally, the teacher believed the student’s story when he handed her the rather brown poster at the very end of the quarter bearing Nevada Jones’ stamp of authenticity.

 

“I’ve found everything from math tests to pregnancy tests that teachers say their students never did. I hate liars, and I love discovering what others say is myth,” Jones said.

 

With a strong whip, an old satchel, and a fedora (which he doesn’t wear inside the building, of course), Nevada Jones will find your missing work, no matter how fake your excuse or personality may seem to your teacher.