The Art of Being a Fala

You know a story won’t be funny when it starts with, “guys this is so funny…” 

Like, “guys, this is so funny. I went with that fat woman to her bar and we sexed right behind the counter.”

I don’t don out blood tests. Now shoo fala. Go away.

*

Well, guys this is soo funny. I woke up late, as usual, smoked some weed and walked up the hill to my Faculty for a lecture. Guess what? There was no lecture. There was a test.

Okay, first things first. Which course unit is this again?

Shit

From the body language thrown at me by my neighbor, I knew that either one of two things was true. One, he was bleak too. Two, he knew the jibber jabber but he wasn’t going to hand me the stuff without a hassle.

I made a split decision. I bundled up the question paper and walked out. I went to the computer lab and downloaded the notes. I then answered the entire paper and walked back to class like 5 minutes to the end of the paper.

For a moment, I thought I would get away with it. Then the class rep tapped the lecturer on the back and pointed straight at me. Sweat bubbles pop up all over my forehead and my heart goes BADAAAM, BADAAAM, BADAAAM…

Keep calm. Breath. Focus on the many dirty words you will throw at that rep fucker when all this blows over.

The class rep actually had no problem. Apparently the lecturer saw me moving out and did a second roll call. All the rep had to do was attach a face to the name. The only wahaala I have with him is that he snitched on a nigger with a little more zeal than necessary.

So he (the lecturer) walks up to me and tells me to explain to the whole class how I managed to fill out a whole script in less than 10 minutes.

Er, I am a fast writer?

In MUK, the statement, “I am going to cheat on that test” spurs the same reaction as, “hey, I am going to grab a rolex or something”.

It is as normal as getting shat (past of shit?) on by a kalooli on a Monday morning. However, the statement, “dude, I was caught cheating on a test” prompts only one reaction.

Nigga, get your shit together. Now shoo fala. Go away.

The lecturer told me to state on top of the answer script that I had been in class for 10 minutes. I signed and left my fate to the gods.

Mbu: If you ever have to sign any of that shit, always put “under duress” at the bottom. The University Council can’t pin it on you because in legal circles, you were kukuss (mad) at the moment and therefore not a legal entity.

Anyway this is not funny. I haven’t garnered the guts to go back and bargain. So, I might be facing a suspension.

*

I was a mess in my 2^nd year. I crossed every line, insulted every one, drunk every intoxicant, smoked every leaf, slept with every prostitute, and crashed every house party.

One thing I never did – one thing I never even mildly considered doing, was cheating on a test or exam. Because I am a class A student – crème de la crème. That’s of course when I’m sober. Most times I’m not so the crème de la crème gets rounded off to ethanol de la alcohol.   

I don’t drink much these days. Just about 12 bottles a weekend will do. The irony is that nowadays I can barely sit a test on my own.

Sometimes I think about quitting…

…I also think of the incredible thrill and rush that would come with pulling off the flowered knickers of my female PDD lecturer.

The likelihood of both events happening is close to null.

In short, quitting is not an option. I am from a family of Engineers. The profession is in my DNA. I don’t even need a transcript to get employment. All I need is a Gishu smile and a pic of me in a graduation gown to show the clan.

Anyway, exams are around the corner so…party hard motherfuckers. I’ll be on that good kush and alcohol. By the time I un-high, I’ll have figured out a work around to cheating on the exams like a pro fala.

Yours,

The Badass Nerd

Ay, don't be a patsy, get Kukuss and like me on that Facebook thing.