…one HOUR late.
For your FINAL EXAM.
Which I reminded you about. Four times.
Heyy there Mister! You look pretty sleepy. Been up all night studying? Yeah, I thought not.
Whatcha got for me? Car wreck? Traffic too much for ya? Police show up at your house to arrest you? Again?
Look, if you could manage something halfway convincing, I might let you take this thing.
You know your shirt’s on backwards, right?
So, what was it? Alarm clock? Family crisis? Downed power lines?
Long line at the Starbucks?
Ok. Since perceptibly you’re incapable of fabricating a reasoning beyond “I dunno whut happund”, I decline to accomodate your laggard ingress to my locality of educative proceedings and wish that you might osculate my tuchis. You could potentially be accorded an approbation derived from the foreperson of my academic division, but your future remains dubious under my jurisdiction. Regardless, the summer session’s aperture is imminent, and, as you possess not an iota of a prospect of achieving the quantitative or qualitative measure to matriculate from my bailiwick, I recommend a hasty matriculaton for the first available section commencing in a fortnight.
And may God have mercy upon your soul.