Please pass the Febreeze

by Janie Jones

My Advanced Writing professor is one of the emaciated-looking smoker types.  She’s very nice, and I have no complaints about her teaching, but it is hard to get your homework back reeking like an ashtray.  When she handed me my stack of papers, the smell half led me to expect a pile of ashes to fall from between the leaves when I picked it up to put in my bag.  Now every time I open my folder for this class, I am assaulted by a whiff of stale cigarette smoke.  I suppose the leftover scent won’t harm me, but I do find that odor rather offensive.  The campus is non smoking, so obviously she brought this stuff home to grade.  I half wish that there was a ban on subjecting students to second hand-second hand smoke smell from grading papers at home.

Yuck.

But, one of my papers I got back was my grammar test.  I got a 93%.  So, just so you all know, when I screw up it’s not because I don’t know better.

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