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I try not to read another person's note before I go into an exam because sometimes you end up being that person. Yeah for a split second you're moving your tongue to the back of your head trying figure out what 'bitch' is doing in a construction note.

The other day I had one of the most decisive exams of my life. I just needed this to get myself thrown all the way overseas. It started with a written exam and then an oral one. Before the exam unfolded, I got materials from my neighbor who's son had moved to Canada. I had no idea who owned the notes and I didn't care because it contained everything I needed.

Exam day came, I got to the venue, spoke with a couple of other guys (they're actually girls, but I'd prefer to call them guys, not because I like guys but because I can choose to be who I want to be around anybody) and you should see how receptive they were towards me, a lot of 'awnning' here and there. This has to be the best day of my life.

The written exam was totally easy and I was out of there in less a split second. Even if there is no known way to split the second, I knew I had taken a lot lesser time. Took a comfortable seat outside and watched two birds sit by the window and make out. So much for freedom of speech and human right activists, now everyone can take their shit outside.

Few hours later, it was time for the oral exam.I was led down a quiet but luxurious corridor and brought in front of a door. The signed outside read 'thread carefully'. I walked in, dusted my shoes and took them in both hands. Immediately the oral Examiner saw me, I knew I was already in Canada. I postrated flat on the floor. He asked for my name and went on to ask me if I knew what this next exam was going to be all about.

While he spoke, I kept seeing Chris Patt and he had this disturbing look. It was weird because I was a John wick stan, why the fuck would I be seeing Chris for Christ sake?! Notwithstanding that he asked me if I preferred doggy to missionary and my reply shocked me even more.

'Missionary all the way' were the words that came out of my mouth. Why would I say that! I was a stan Wicker and we only advocated for doggy, no missionaries allowed. The oral exam went on and I could tell Mr Ajayi (that was the only name I could call him to take out the Chris Patt image from my head) was pleased.

'Are you finally going to let the thread out of the bag', I finally asked. He looked at me, smiled a disturbing smile and replied,'what thread?, Only cats get let out of the bag'. 'Well, that one', I pointed just right across where both of us sat to a little table with a bag on top of it. He looked at me again, I don't know why I kept seeing Chris Patt.

'There's no thread in that bag, in fact there's no thread anywhere he....

I stood up and went straight for the bag, opened it and a knitting thread came rolling out of it. You needed to see the shock on the examiner's face. How did the thread end up in the bag?? and how did that bag get there?

The exam ended and I stepped out the hall, ran into and greeted the lady who'd served us both a cup of coffee while the interview went on. Apparently she'd forgotten her little knitting bag. She usually made little dick bags which she used to masturbate to weird images frequently, the birds by the window were a great trophy.

Few days after, I got a call from the exam agency. I had failed the written exam woefully, writing in another language they couldn't decipher. But then they examiner had insisted I got called in and given an honorary pass. Did I mention my neighbor was Hindu?

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