A Monstrously Scary Abscessed Test

Once upon a time, there was a girl. A very Wise girl. In fact, she was so wise, her name was Chuck. Ha! I kid. Her name was Wodin the Wise. Anyhow, she was very Wise, and she studied very hard in school. She was a student at the notorious—did I say notorious? I meant Prestigious—WOU, also known as Whacked Out University. Seriously. Anyhow, so she studied. In addition, she studied. Did I mention that she studied? And, despite all evidence to the contrary, she actually usually sometimes enjoyed herself. And so she studied.

She was still in the throes of indecision: what should her major be? She thought that majoring in the Australian Language and working on the campaign for the Emancipation for the Elusive Wombat would be fun, but Lovely Lola had already done that. Besides, that Major was not offered at WOU, even though the words “Whacked Out” appeared in the name of the school, and despite the propensity of the school to be decidedly strange, but you pay no nevermind to that, you young’uns! Anyway, so she decided to be a teacher of Pencil Sharpening. No kidding. There really is a demand for that sort of thing. I mean, what with the new requirements that students get job training in schools and all, this sort of training for students planning to be Administrative Assistants is essential. Of course, Wodin will take more classes than simply Pencil Sharpening. She will also learn about Mechanical Pencils, Refillable Pens, and the benefits of permanent and washable ink. Wodin was ever so excited to be taking these classes so she could become a teacher to better Humanity, even if Humanity didn’t want to be bettered. Never mind that. Humanity could just rear its ugly head and kiss her—Oh wait. This is a Family Story. Forgive me. I blush. I also Digress; where was I? Ah, right here.

So, Wodin desired to become a teacher. Before the Big-Wigs in charge of Education would allow this to transpire, however, Wodin was required to take a monstrous test, six hours long, called the MSAT, which stands for (Wodin believes) Monstrously Scary Abscessed Test. Abscessed because her brain felt abscessed merely thinking about the test, much less when it came right down to taking the test. But take it she did.

Wodin was very nervous on Test Day. She was afraid that they would test her on knowledge she did not posses. You know, testing her on stuff other than pens and pencils. Well, never fear, because of course they would test her on things she had never heard of! That is the point of a test. However, she felt she could answer the first question. It read something like this:

1. “On the first day of class, the teacher handed the syllabus to all of the students as they walked through the door.”
Which of the following changes would be most dramatic in the above sentence?
a. Change “all of” to “each and every”
b. “students” to “students”
c. “door” to “door”
d. I don’t know. This is a stupid question anyway.

Wodin spent considerable time pondering the question. She simply did not know which answer was more accurate. In fact, considering the situation, it would be appropriate to say that she panicked outright. She began to breathe rather quickly and shallowly. In fact, some witnesses claim there was hyperventilation involved, but Wodin denies the allegations. Anyhow, she calmed down, and looked at the options: “Well, the last one is hardly a change in the sentence,” she mused. “And the other two don’t seem to be changes either.” She thought a bit more. “But is ‘a’ really a dramatic change? Would I choose that in order to make my sentence more dramatic?” At that point, she realized that all of the students around her were glaring quite steadily at her, and the Test Administrator Man frowned at her and said in his best Test Administratorly Man Voice, “Keep it down. There is no thinking, silent or out-loud, permitted during this, the multiple choice section of the test.” Wodin hunched her shoulders, blushed, and got back to work. She ceased thinking, and from there on out she simply filled in the little bubbles. And that was that. Indeed, when she finished, she discovered that she was 45 minutes ahead of time. She was rather giddy at the prospect, until she remembered that there was a second portion of the test made up of Essay questions. She wanted to cry, but she did not. So she turned in her multiple choice answer sheet with all of the wonderful bubbles filled in (not all of the bubbles, but one for each question; you get the idea) and left the room whistling while the Test Administrator Man glowered at her. She did not notice the glower. Instead, she went and sharpened her pencils, because that was what she knew how to do. Plus, she needed her pencils sharp for the Essay Portion of The Test. Dun-dun-dun.

So the essay portion of the MSAT rolled around. Alas, Wodin was once again shaking in her boots. (No, she wasn’t really wearing boots, but it is a nice phrase.) Anyhow, she sat back down in her desk and awaited the exam. Of course, because she was required to be there by 10:45, the test did not begin until 11:30. Naturally. When she opened her book and read the first question, she panicked again. Some of the other students might be persuaded to say that she ran around the room screaming, “It’s got me! It’s got me!” but that would just be their word against hers. (And they won’t be talking any time soon. Trust me.) But, she eventually did calm down and begin to write answers to the test. Until she came to a hideously ugly (that’s not redundant) math question. She began to stutter.

“Th-that’s n-n-not poss-ssible! You c-can’t writ-te an essay ab-b-bout MATH!”
The Administrator Man scowled at her again. She stopped talking and began crying silently instead. When lo and behold! Merv the Fairy God Cabby appeared! Wodin looked around, but it didn’t appear that anyone, not even Surly Test Administrator Man, noticed Merv.

Merv took the cigar from his mouth and said, “Eh, whaddaya want? I ain’t gat all day, ya know.”

Wodin gulped, and whispered, “I have a math essay question I need to do. Can you help me?”

Merv looked at the problem and said, “The answer is 42. Trust me. Just write it down.”

Wodin looked confused. “But, but, I have to explain my answer!”

Merv growled, “Jus’ say yeh gat it from Me, Miss Whiny-Pants!” And then he disappeared in a foul cloud of Cigar smoke.

Lola coughed, and shrugged. And she wrote down 42. It was as good an answer as she would have come up with, she was sure. And as for the explanation? Well, she simply wrote: “Merv said so.” And that was that. But never fear (or perhaps you should), that is not all the test entailed! Indeed, there was more to that test than met the eyes (or eye, if you are a large giant, hairy Cyclops, which Wodin is not, but the writer wishes to steer clear of alienating any of her audience who might not be visually blessed enough to have both of his or her eyes). Indeed, she needed to write a hideous essay on interpretive dance. I kid not. She looked at a rather silly picture in the test booklet, wishing it would dance around like in the Harry Potter books, but alas, the figures remained motionless. She must write an essay about what she believed their movements (as captured by still-frame photographic technology) were depicting. In a rather astute moment, Wodin began to write:

“The picture of the dancers depicts them in a dancing arrangement whilst they are dancing. That they are dancing is obvious: they are twirling and leaping about (or would be, if the picture were more Harry Potter-like). It is obvious that they are dancing and not, for example, playing golf. If they were playing golf, they would have golf clubs in their hands. Seeing as they do not have golf clubs, it is logical to assume that the dancers, so called because of their dance-like arrangement, are indeed dancing. However, it looks as though the third dancer from the left wishes he were playing golf instead of dancing. Thank you.”

Well, that was nearly the last of her essays, and she breezed through the rest of them with no problem (except for the one about the homeless wombats of southern Australia, but that question was only a problem because it caused her to reminisce about Lovely Lola for a time). When it was all over, she exited the room, snapping her carefully sharpened pencils, saying, “O, that I were a test administrator, I would verily strike the writers of such tests upon the crowns of their heads. Yea, I wouldst cry mightily unto them saying, why hast thou tortured me thus? May you have carbuncles upon your toes.” Wodin wept bitterly, and then retired to her drawing room, and invited Colonel Mustard to join her for a glass of sherry and… Whoops! heh, heh! That is the other story I am working on. Actually, Wodin returned to her room, where Fredrick and Fluff were waiting for her so they could give her a back rub. And they did, and she enjoyed it, falling into a deep stupor, induced by the test and massage. Friedrick and Fluff, those tenacious little teddy bears, crept out of her room, whispering “May we never encounter such a test, Titus.” And, “O that such a calamity may never befall us, Lavinia.” And that was that.

Today’s installment of “The Adventures of Friedrick and Fluff” is sponsored in part by Cherry Jell-O, the national snack of Teddy Bears everywhere!