50-words-stories

Hazlehurst, Mississippi. Sun slowly sinking in a blood-red sky.

Kudzu vines climbed the porch. The old man played "Terraplane Blues."
"You the boy wants to play the Blues?"
"Yessir, that's me."

"I charges twenty-five dollars a lesson. You got to practice, you hear?
At last. Grad School...for real.

 

It was a dark and stormy night, and the captain said, “John, tell us how you got your latest credential.”

And John said, “You mean my mini micro MBA executive certificate diploma in global business propio cyber stuff?”

“Yes, John, that’s it. But you have so many I’ve lost count.”

 

Wahaha, you are so funny sometimes

 

Mac Juli read an entry that he wasn’t seen as the winner. Darn. If there would be any fairness in the world, he would be declared the winner. This election was rigged anyway.
He suddenly realized that he was not so different from a soon-to-be-former president he despised.

He blushed.

 

An accredited MBA, is it supposed to be a painful quest?
How about when you want promotion at work but can't afford Ivy league schools?
Degreeinfo made me an ENEB veteran. I hope it will make me a veteran of some other cheap bang for your buck school.

 

Once upon a time in my search for a chique mba, I came across the Upgrad fairy.
"Deakin is what you need!"
''Pardon me ? I have very high expectations, ma'am. I want to make big bank. Is anything less than Wharton going to suffice? "
"Que sera sera"
She answers.
And so it began...