minsquin:

The Surrealist Guide to Late Essay Excuses

Excuse me, sir, but this essay is unfinished because;

• My hands fell off mid-sentence. Yes, yes it does look as though they’re still attached, but that’s an illusion - these are artificial instruments I spent all night constructing from the debris of an argument last Thursday.
• I ran out of words. We each get a quota everyday, and I’d foolishly wasted mine writing epic poems to people glimpsed on public transport. I’ve realised the error of my ways, and rest assured that from now on, I’ll write in haiku format.
• Through a cruel and unexpected twist of fate, I was charged with 12 Herculean tasks. Between slaying the Stymphalian birds and capturing the Cretan Bull, I only had time to write half the word limit. Incidentally, I’ve got to leave this lesson early - I’ve yet to track down Cerberus.
• It turns out that instead of being an 18 year-old, I’m an incredible mature looking 7 year-old, placed in your class by mistake. When is nap time?
• Just as I was nearing the end, the poet we’re analysing turned up for tea (sure, they died a hundred years ago, but they looked great considering), and it turns out that everything we’ve written is wrong. Absolutely everything. The works were originally intended as comedy puns to be printed inside novelty giftcards - who would have thought it?!