The Biology Ordeal.

Me: Okay, Self. Don't panic. It's just an exam, and after this the class is over and you'll never have to think about plaquettes again.
My brain: Unless you fail the exam. In which case you'll just have to take the course again next year. Won't that be fun.
Me: Even if I get a low mark I'll still pass, shut up.
My brain: Hm, maybe so, but you'll have to take Bio12 next year, won't you?
Me: ... I hate you.
Knees: We knock!
Hands: We tremble!
Shoulders: We shake!
Stomach: I heave!
Me: Guys, quit it! It's not that big a-
Bell: Oops, time to go die a painful, painful death, MWAHAHA! write your exams, kiddies!
Me: ... Oh fuck.
Mme Wiseman: Bonjour mes amis! Vous etes prets pour votre examen, n'est-ce c'est pas?
Me: Madam, at the moment I can barely trust myself with walking up a flight of stairs. Writing an exam is entirely out of the question.
Mme Wiseman: Oh, c'est bon, eh?
Exam: Here I am.
Me: Yep. There you are.
Exam: Just sittin' on your desk.
Me: Sittin' on my desk.
Exam: You ready for me?
Me: Not really. DAMN STRAIGHT I AM BITCH.
Exam: I love it when you talk dirty. Have I mentioned yet that I am bizarrely, unnervingly easy?
Me: But- I- adda- wibba- what???
Exam: Yep, easy as pie. Ooh, label my circulatory diagram, baby. Just like that. Mmm.
Me: But-but GRAHAM thought you were tough! I- am I doing something wrong?
Exam: Oh, it always has to be about YOU, doesn't it?

And thus ended the Great Biology Ordeal.