Hi, Dont hate me cause i wear a sumo suit and dont call me fat lol
ok bye lmao.
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Well it all started out normal enough. My mom dropped me off, and after signing forms and taking a vocabulary test, eventually I had to do the field exam. I was led out of the building into a 'student driver car'. You know the type, the ones with those red and blue and silver stars. The man I was paired with to take the test was hideous. I mean he smelt like a bag of fish had been laid out in Death Valley and then pissed on by fat people who had nothing to eat but asparagus for years. I began gagging, so I reached into my man-purse, yes, I have a man-purse. I use it to carry things like my deodorant, which is a necessity as I have a condition that makes me sweat buckets. I got it out, and sprayed about a quarter of Axe Phoenix into the air. Now the man, he went by Mr. Bishell, did not look impressed. His fingers were clenched, white and bloodless, around his pen, and he immediately began to take notes. I got nervous, and sort of pulled out without a seat belt. More notes. We drove for about ten minutes before I made my next mistake. I swerved to miss a squirrel, which Mr. Bishell claimed was dead, but I am a devote vegan, a charter member of PETA, so just in case it was still alive, I swerved, almost crashing into a shiny red Corvettet in the next lane. At that point, Mr. Bishell, now the smell was coming back, as the deodorant had worn out, snapped his pen in half, spilling the black ink all over my new designer man-purse, which had cost me two hundred dollars. I then pulled over, being responsible, and began just ragging on him and his hipster greasy mullet. At that point I looked down and realized what I had thought was leg hair was actually a bunch of disgusting tattoos consisting of lines. We got back into the car, just after I b*tch smacked him. I regret that. My hand still smells like rotten fish and urine and it is still very greasy. I actually plan to go see a doctor, as some sort of infection has formed. Anyways, once we were back on the road, Mr. Bishell fished out another pen out of the dashboard, and began taking more and more notes. At that point we hit another cross walk, this time with and old man with a cane crossing. I couldn't wait any longer to get home. I had to get out of Mr. Bishell's disgusting presence. I got out of the car, picked up the old man, crossed the street, and tossed him into the bushes. I was so mad and fed up at that point. I got back into the car, still pissed as hell. Before Mr. Bishell could get out to check if the old man was okay, I floored the car, speeding into the driving school. I swerved to avoid another (possibly) dead animal. I spun the wheel, executing a perfectParallelel park, got out and went into the building, where they would analyzeze my scores. I did not get my license. Why didn't I get one? It wasn't my fault I made a few (minor) mistakes. It was because of Mr. Bishell! If he hadn't been so utterly foul, I would not have made any mistakes. Who's side are you on? I personally think I am right, but I want to know what you, as a person with your own individual opinions, think of this ordeal. I tried to reschedule to take another test but they said they wouldn't allow me to. Are they aloud to do that? Also, what exactly made it so I didn't get my license?