The Vienna Academy of Fine Arts looked majestic—towering pillars, intricate carvings, and intimidating statues that silently judged every human who dared enter.
Tajdin, currently occupying Hitler's body, felt the statues judging him a little extra.
His roommate, Karl, slapped him on the back.
"Relax, Adolf! If they don't like your art this time, we riot!"
Tajdin stopped.
"WE WHAT?"
Karl laughed. "Just kidding! Probably."
Tajdin made a mental note: Karl would definitely start a revolution if someone served his coffee cold. Good to know.
They walked inside, and the admissions hall was already full of nervous students clutching their portfolios like life jackets on a sinking ship. A professor with the largest beard Tajdin had ever seen was calling out names.
The beard called, "Adolf Hitler."
Tajdin stepped forward, trembling.
Karl whispered, "Go get 'em, champ."
Champ?
If only Karl knew that the entire timeline of Earth depended on Tajdin drawing a tree correctly.
---
The Interview
Inside the evaluation room sat three professors, each looking like they had swallowed a lemon—not the fruit, the entire tree.
Professor #1 adjusted his monocle.
"So, Herr Hitler, you believe you are ready now?"
Tajdin smiled nervously. "Yes, sir. I have… improved tremendously."
He opened the portfolio.
Even he wasn't ready for what he saw.
Hitler's old terrible drawings were on top—bent buildings, cursed anatomy, a cat that looked like it was plotting world domination.
"No no no—wrong side—wrong side!" Tajdin scrambled, flipping pages until he found the blank sheets he hoped to fill later.
The professors stared.
Professor #2 leaned in. "These… are… quite…"
Tajdin waited.
The professor finished: "…unique."
That was the politest way to say horrific.
Professor #3 coughed. "Do you have any live drawing skills? Portraits? Architectural studies?"
Tajdin swallowed.
"No. But I can try!"
The professors exchanged a look that said:
This boy is not an artist, he is a future insurance salesman.
One of them slid a sketchpad and pencil across the table.
"Draw this apple."
An apple sat on a pedestal as if it were the King of Fruits.
Tajdin picked up the pencil. His hand shook. He concentrated deeply.
He drew an apple.
It looked like…
Well… an apple. Kind of.
But also slightly like a tomato that had seen things it could never forget.
He handed it over.
The professors inspected it.
Professor #1: "Hmm."
Professor #2: "Interesting shading."
Professor #3: "Did the apple… wrong you somehow?"
Tajdin panicked.
He blurted out, "I'm experimenting with emotional realism!"
The professors froze.
Emotional Realism?
Was that a thing?
Professor #2 whispered, "This… may be genius."
Professor #1 nodded slowly. "Avant-garde."
Professor #3 leaned back, impressed. "I feel the apple's sadness."
Tajdin couldn't believe it.
He had just gaslit three professional art evaluators into thinking his horrible drawing was a masterpiece.
For a moment, he felt confident.
Until Professor #1 asked:
"Now, please draw a human figure."
Tajdin froze harder than the Titanic.
No. No. NO.
A human figure meant proportions. Curves. Anatomy. Knees.
Hitler was terrible at drawing humans.
And so was Tajdin.
But he had no choice.
He began drawing.
The head looked okay.
The torso looked… acceptable-ish.
The legs… bent wrong.
The arms… too long.
The hands… absolutely cursed.
It looked like someone had melted a marionette and tried to reassemble it using memory alone.
He placed it in front of them.
The professors stared in silence for a full ten seconds.
Professor #2 finally spoke.
"…Sir. What is this?"
Tajdin whispered, defeated:
"Emotional realism?"
The professors did not buy it this time.
"Thank you," Professor #1 said, voice flat. "We will send you the results by mail."
That was the academic way of saying:
"Go home. Immediately."
Tajdin walked outside, portfolio in hand, feeling like he had just doomed the entire world.
Karl rushed up. "HOW WAS IT?"
Tajdin groaned. "Karl… I think the world is about to get very, very unlucky."
Karl puffed his chest. "Nonsense! I believe in you!"
At that exact moment, an admissions clerk pinned the daily results to the board.
The crowd gasped.
Karl grabbed Tajdin's shoulder. "Adolf… you need to see this."
Tajdin approached the board, praying for a miracle.
And there it was.
"Adolf Hitler – Rejected"
Rejected. Again.
History was back on track.
The worst possible track.
Tajdin whispered to himself:
"Oh no. The apocalypse has a schedule, and I'm the idiot who couldn't draw a potato with arms."
But Karl clapped him on the back.
"Don't worry! This city is boring anyway. You should try politics."
Tajdin fainted on the spot.