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I stared at the bonus point problem on my

  • I stared at the bonus point problem on my chemistry exam. My God! I not only knew how to solve it, I understood its significance. I looked up at my professor. She knew that I knew

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  • and I knew that she knew that I knew. We knew. It was time. Time to quit this charade of indifference. Time to let nature take its course. Only, it turns out that what my professor

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  • expected was different from what I wanted. I was certainly not indifferent anymore, but I wasn't sure I was on the same page as my professor. He soon realized that, and I realized

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  • that he realized that. I approached him timidly. "What do you want here?" I asked, my eyes cast downward on my paper. "The right answer, of course." my professor answered, winking.

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  • Then my professor cuffed me in the back of the head. "Approach me again, this time with balls!" I sheepishly tried to ask what he meant by- SLAP! He hit me with a copy of Paradise

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  • Found, his own original screenplay. "I, uhh- uh... Milton was a twat?" "That's more like it!" he bellowed, smacking me across the face with the screenplay again. "W-what was that

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  • for?" I squawked, hating the sound of my voice. It really irritates me that my voice cracks like a pubescent teenager whenever I'm agitated. It's like I totally lose control of m

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  • y sense of maniness when it cracks like that. It's so embarrassing. A fully grown man's voice cracking. I shuddered inside. I hope no one noticed it. I proceeded towards

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  • the lady sitting at the bar with her head in her hands. She looked sad. I rung the bell. "What would you like sir?" "One drink for the upset lady. On the house." I edged towards

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  • the woman, but was delayed by the bartender smacking my head. "You want a drink for somebody, you pay for it." After sighing at shelling out ten bucks, I noticed her head FELL OFF.

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