The Summer Intern is the weakest and most vulnerable creature that walks the earth.
Let me put it like this: If a Summer Intern were to walk up to whatever assistant whose job it is to moisten Miley Cyrus' tongue when it's been stuck it out for too long, the assistant would tell him: "Jesus, dude, you look really demoralized."
For there is no one lower on the social totem pole than the Summer Intern.
And yet, I have decided to take it upon myself to study and record these mysterious, radioactive lumps of human misery.
Now, seeing as the Summer Intern is an infinitely complex and multifaceted creature, I have focused on four highly indicative moments in the Intern's work-life to illustrate some of their most crucial aspects.
So now, without further ado, I present to the world and to history: "The Anatomy of the Summer Intern!"
By the end of the first day, he's been ignored for so long, he's only 80 percent sure he's not a ghost.
At work drinks, the Summer Intern somehow always manages to get drunker than Shia LaBeouf at a Ukrainian wedding.
Imagine a strip club, in the middle of the desert, staffed exclusively by ex-child stars. That's how depressing being hungover at an internship is.
By the end, their souls look like a clogged toilet at Shaq's house. But they'll get over it someday (in this life or the next).