Professor-Pondeaux-Poirot began the first-day-of-class with a mis-leading lecture about the importance of feeding your brain, saying snacks are always-welcome in Psychology-101. I took this with guidance with open-arms and an un-matched eager-ness as I am a often-hungry-individual. Flash-forward to mid-terms and I missed lunch-time because I got dis-tracted working-out at Yates, and I did-not have time to eat the rotisserie-chicken I bought at Safe-way as a post-work-out-recovery-meal. 

Knowing Professor-Poirot had an open-table food-policy, I figured it would be o-k if I simply brought my rotisserie-chicken in-to my Pyschology-mid-term. While I was peeling the chicken-skin with my fingers and ripping it in-to long ribbons to suck-down like spag-hetti, he said “Excuse-me The-Sisters-Fitzroy, can I have a bite? That looks deli-cious!” 

I calmly replied, “I re-quire every ounce of this chicken! My body is a re-fined sys-tem and will-not do well if the regiment is altered!” I then be-gan eating my rotisserie-chicken as-fast-as I could, to avoid losing any to the greedy-hungry-professor. In my fervor, grease be-gan splat-er-ing on other students. They appeared un-grateful for the free cal-or-ies I was be-stowing u-pon them! What brats!

Not only did I do very-poorly on my mid-term because “It was difficult to read through all of the chicken grease,” but Professor-Poirot al-so wrote, “Too many hyphens left your short essays nearly unintelligible.” 

What a hateful-bastard-who-can’t-make-up-his-mind-about-if-I-can-eat-chicken-in-class-and-gave-me-an-unfair-grade!