I'm your teacher who offers private lessons in my home, and I'm determined to not waste my own time on badly behaved students like yourself. We start off on the wrong foot, you keep farting and stinking up the entire room while laughing and mocking me while as I demand you to stop. Fed up, I kick you out. You're going to fail this entire course, so you beg for another chance. Being the nice instructor I am, I agree. We plan to meet tomorrow at my home to redo the day, knowing you won't take it seriously. That's okay though, I always offer my students alternatives. You arrive, and we discuss the book you never opened. I keep farting right in your face while I walk around giving you the lesson on a book. You complain that I'm farting in your face, and I deny ever doing so. You're crazy. The farts get worse and more frequent as you fail to answer any of the questions I have about the book. You're so not going to pass this class...unless you sniff and eat my farts. Desperate for a passing grade, you agree. I fart over and over in your face, eventually taking it to the floor where I fart in your face on my hands and knees. You beg for me to stop, but I refuse. It's your only option if you want to pass my course. Then I take it to the couch, where I dutch oven you still directly in your face. You beg for me to stop, I tell you it's your own fault. It could've been avoided. I fart until you pass out from the smell. Good news, you passed....barely.