Something...

Sheldon hated his fucking name. He cursed it to no end, never recalling it without a swear beside it. He didn't understand it, nor could he derive a decent nickname from it that resembled the original name whatsoever. It tortured him, and his company refused to address him as anything different, reinforcing his anguish.

"Jonathan Walker Sling."

What an asshole. I should have kicked his ass. Jonathan's gown flapped against his pace up the steps, and the row of characters reaching out to shake his hand. Sheldon scowled at the sight as Jonathan received his ribboned paper and turned to the crowd. Now he faced an avenue of the same people, smiles fleeting. The dean looked down at the registry.

"Sheldon Simmons Slowey." Sheldon flashed his teeth and nodded, and trudged as if walking through mud to the stage. Up the steps he went, lifting his gown so as to not challenge the horror of his name with a circus spin back down the steps. He felt as if he'd climbed them for every breath of the last four years.

The Dean held his face like an ox as Sheldon approched, anticipating their last meeting with similar excitement. Sheldon saw the dean challenging himself for the most smug remark he could conceive of.

"Well, looks-looks like-"

Rich. "Yeah, you'll never be calling me Sheldon again!" The dean