"Okay," said Zach, "positions?"
"I'm at the foot of the bed, against the wall," answered Nick.
"Head of bed, wardrobe," said Mike.
"Keep talking Mike, I'm coming over. Marco!" said Zach. "This is a really lousy time to play that game, isn't it?"
"Oh yeah," said Mike wryly. "Polo!"
"Eh?" said Nick.
"Marco?" said Zach. "It's a kiddie game, sort of like hide and seek," he explained to Nick.
"Except not," added Mike. "Stop walking, Zach, before you walk into ME."
"Will do," said Zach, before walking into the bed right next to Mike. He found the girl's head, then the thermometer, and tried to read it in the dim yet very green light of his watch. "I can really do with some light here...."
"Actually..." said Nick, and opened his laptop. In the sudden pale light Mike and Zach stared at him, looking slightly annoyed and, in this case, blue from the light of his desktop background.
"You had this all along," said Mike. "And we had to move the furniture around in the dark?"
"At least I remembered," mumbled Nick a little guiltily. His laptop was emitting beeping sounds, as if it was agreeing, except that wasn't it because a moment later the laptop turned itself off.
"Nick, did you rememember to recharge the batteries?" asked Zach mildly.
"Uh, no?" said Nick. "Mike, stop glaring at me."
"How do you even know I'm glaring at you? You can't even see me!" yelled Mike.
"Well I can FEEL you glaring," answered Nick.
"Can you FEEL how much I want to punch you right now," asked Mike.
"I'm getting a pretty good estimate," muttered Zach, carefully edging away from where he saw Mike last.
"Shut up," sighed Mike.
"Yessir," agreed Mike cheerfully. "Guess what, though?"
"What?" asked Mike and Nick at the same time.
"You're suppose to guess," said Zach, mischieviously.
"Just tell it already!" growled Mike.
"Fine. Her temperature's done to a hundred. I saw it before Nick's computer sputtered out." There was no mistakening for the good cheer in his voice. "I'm going to move out the cans now, the towels should be cold enough and we don't want her to get any frostbites."
"Right. You do that," said Mike. He leaned back agains the wardrobe and crossed his arms. "So, Nick, what's up?" He asked over the faint sounds of clinking aluminum cans.
"Not much," answered Nick. He was just about to say how thing'd calmed down a bit when there came a thunderous crashing sound outside.
"What was that?" yelped Zach.
Nick, being the closest to the window, peered out. Not that there was much that he could see, since all the lights outside were out too, but there definitely seemed to be something wrong with the shadows outside. Or rather, there seemed to be a certain shadow missing. "I think a tree just tipped over."
"From what?" demanded Mike. The rest of his words were cut off by the sound of soda cans crashing to the floor. It was pure luck that Nick's soda cans held and the soda stayed where they were suppose to stay.
"Zach?" asked Nick.
"Do either you or your roommate have a pet hidden away somewhere in the room?" asked Zach with a strained calmness. "Something just brushed against me, and it was moving pretty fast too.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Monday, September 26, 2005
October- "There was something"
There was something slightly problematic about the current situation, and it was a problem that was experienced, not long ago, by Mike and Zach that mainly involved moving around in a pitch black room where the furnitures had had a mass migration. In otherwords, you were not suppose to move around because you couldn't do so safely. However, Mike was seldom concerned about safety and therefore was the first one to try to get somewhere.
"Ow," said Mike, after some banging and thudding. The other two stayed right where they were and listened to the chaos that was occuring right outside, involving many students in various illegal stages of alcohol intoxication who were somewhat confused to find themselves in the dark. More than usual, that was.
"Let's move the furnitures back," volunteered Nick.
"Might be hard, since we can't see anything," commented Zach.
"Eh, we can probably do it," said Mike, much to Zach's dismay. "Nick, get to the other end of the bed, we'll drag it back to the original spot."
"I can drag the other stuff out of the way," said Zach, somewhat reluctantly. "Where's everyone right now?"
"Roommate's bed, against the right wall," said Nick.
"Next to the wardrobe, somewhere near the door," said Mike.
"I'm on a chair that's next to the bed, there's a box to the right of my chair that's wedged between the chair leg and Nick's roommate's bed," said Zach, giving the box a gentle kick.
"There's a suitcase that's to my right of the wardrobe that's stuck between there and the bed," reported Mike, feeling around.
"So we all know where we need to be?" asked Zach.
"No." said Mike, "Let's go."
Anyone who has ever moved into a college dormitory would know what state of utter confusion that usually reigns. It was like that, except done in dark, sometimes after midnight, with one unconscious girl on a bed that Mike and Nick were trying to move. The furnitures, for one, did not appreciate all the hubbub and being dragged around willy-nilly. The boys didn't appreciate the furnitures very much because when they don't have to drag the rather heavy bits of the room around, they kept banging into them, and it hurt.
"Remind me why I'm doing this again?" Huffed Mike as they hauled the bed in what could presumably be called the left of the room. Then yelped when Zach banged into his shin with the suitcase that he was dragging.
"Sorry," muttered Zach.
"Because you are my friend and you like me?" Suggested Nick, panting and heaving the other end of the bed.
"Don't bet on it," grumbled Mike, dragging the bed the last few inches into position. A thud came from across the room, annoucing Zach's arrival there.
"Ow," said Mike, after some banging and thudding. The other two stayed right where they were and listened to the chaos that was occuring right outside, involving many students in various illegal stages of alcohol intoxication who were somewhat confused to find themselves in the dark. More than usual, that was.
"Let's move the furnitures back," volunteered Nick.
"Might be hard, since we can't see anything," commented Zach.
"Eh, we can probably do it," said Mike, much to Zach's dismay. "Nick, get to the other end of the bed, we'll drag it back to the original spot."
"I can drag the other stuff out of the way," said Zach, somewhat reluctantly. "Where's everyone right now?"
"Roommate's bed, against the right wall," said Nick.
"Next to the wardrobe, somewhere near the door," said Mike.
"I'm on a chair that's next to the bed, there's a box to the right of my chair that's wedged between the chair leg and Nick's roommate's bed," said Zach, giving the box a gentle kick.
"There's a suitcase that's to my right of the wardrobe that's stuck between there and the bed," reported Mike, feeling around.
"So we all know where we need to be?" asked Zach.
"No." said Mike, "Let's go."
Anyone who has ever moved into a college dormitory would know what state of utter confusion that usually reigns. It was like that, except done in dark, sometimes after midnight, with one unconscious girl on a bed that Mike and Nick were trying to move. The furnitures, for one, did not appreciate all the hubbub and being dragged around willy-nilly. The boys didn't appreciate the furnitures very much because when they don't have to drag the rather heavy bits of the room around, they kept banging into them, and it hurt.
"Remind me why I'm doing this again?" Huffed Mike as they hauled the bed in what could presumably be called the left of the room. Then yelped when Zach banged into his shin with the suitcase that he was dragging.
"Sorry," muttered Zach.
"Because you are my friend and you like me?" Suggested Nick, panting and heaving the other end of the bed.
"Don't bet on it," grumbled Mike, dragging the bed the last few inches into position. A thud came from across the room, annoucing Zach's arrival there.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
October- "Water"
[Don't mind if I do....]
"Water?" Suggested Nick, holding up a bottle of water after rummaging in the fridge.
"Are you nuts?" said Mike before Zach had even a chance to open his mouth. "Do you KNOW how EASY it is for someone to choke to death when they're subconscious?"
"Alright alright," muttered Nick, returning the water to the dark lairs of the fridge where it had came from. "Yeesh."
Mike leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "What other options are there?" He asked Zach.
"None," was the reassuring reply. Zach went through the contents of the tin box again. "The only things I know that're done in this case are to take pills or injections, and since I don't have the equipments and, even if I do, I know how to give the injections...."
"So is she screwed then?" asked Mike bluntly.
Zach winced. "No," he said, "not yet. Hey Nick, do you have any canned beverages?"
"Grape soda?" Nick glanced at him, puzzled. "Are you thirsty?"
"No, we're going to make-do with ice packs," Zach tossed the towel from the girl's head to Mike. "Go and rinse that, please. How many cans do you have?" He asked Nick as Mike went out again, grumbling.
"Almost two six packs."
"Why..." Zach eyed Nick, "Nevermind. Get, uh, the other towels and wrap one around each can." He accepted the first can from Nick and placed it next to the girl's torso. "We need to get her temperature down somehow 'cause one of the most dangerous thing about high fevers is that they can damage the nerve tissue..."
"Okay," said Nick, handing Zach another wrapped can. "Just so you know, I don't have any more towels. Will paper towels do?" He asked when Zach gave an aggreivated sigh.
"Yes! Wrap two or three layers. That's good," added Zach, when Nick handed him the next towel-bound can. Mike returned and they reapplied the towel, adding to the task of moving the cold-cans every few minutes to avoid giving their unknown patient a frostbite. Then Zach decided to call time again; five minute count down for the thermometer.
"Is this actually going to work?" asked Mike, skeptical on top of his worries.
"It should..." murmured Zach. "We're not doing anything for the actual thing that made her sick you know, just lowering her temperature. Speaking of which, I haven't seen anything else that's wrong with her, so why's she unconscious?"
"Exhaustion," said Nick, plopping down on his roommate's bed.
"I wonder if it could be psychological," mused Zach.
"Or both," said Mike dryly, looking at his watch. "Time!"
"A hundred an--" began Zach, before all the lights went off.
"NICK!" hollered Mike.
"I didn't do ANYTHING!" Nick wailed back.
"It's not just here," said Zach, "listen to the wracket outside." They could clearly hear the screams and shouts from outside the room.
"Yeah, even I don't have the power to do that," said Nick.
"You never know," retorted Mike. "Zach, what's the temperature?"
"And two," said Zach, finishing his original sentence.
"Oh wow, it worked," said Mike with relieved surprise.
Nick cheered somewhere in the dark.
"Water?" Suggested Nick, holding up a bottle of water after rummaging in the fridge.
"Are you nuts?" said Mike before Zach had even a chance to open his mouth. "Do you KNOW how EASY it is for someone to choke to death when they're subconscious?"
"Alright alright," muttered Nick, returning the water to the dark lairs of the fridge where it had came from. "Yeesh."
Mike leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "What other options are there?" He asked Zach.
"None," was the reassuring reply. Zach went through the contents of the tin box again. "The only things I know that're done in this case are to take pills or injections, and since I don't have the equipments and, even if I do, I know how to give the injections...."
"So is she screwed then?" asked Mike bluntly.
Zach winced. "No," he said, "not yet. Hey Nick, do you have any canned beverages?"
"Grape soda?" Nick glanced at him, puzzled. "Are you thirsty?"
"No, we're going to make-do with ice packs," Zach tossed the towel from the girl's head to Mike. "Go and rinse that, please. How many cans do you have?" He asked Nick as Mike went out again, grumbling.
"Almost two six packs."
"Why..." Zach eyed Nick, "Nevermind. Get, uh, the other towels and wrap one around each can." He accepted the first can from Nick and placed it next to the girl's torso. "We need to get her temperature down somehow 'cause one of the most dangerous thing about high fevers is that they can damage the nerve tissue..."
"Okay," said Nick, handing Zach another wrapped can. "Just so you know, I don't have any more towels. Will paper towels do?" He asked when Zach gave an aggreivated sigh.
"Yes! Wrap two or three layers. That's good," added Zach, when Nick handed him the next towel-bound can. Mike returned and they reapplied the towel, adding to the task of moving the cold-cans every few minutes to avoid giving their unknown patient a frostbite. Then Zach decided to call time again; five minute count down for the thermometer.
"Is this actually going to work?" asked Mike, skeptical on top of his worries.
"It should..." murmured Zach. "We're not doing anything for the actual thing that made her sick you know, just lowering her temperature. Speaking of which, I haven't seen anything else that's wrong with her, so why's she unconscious?"
"Exhaustion," said Nick, plopping down on his roommate's bed.
"I wonder if it could be psychological," mused Zach.
"Or both," said Mike dryly, looking at his watch. "Time!"
"A hundred an--" began Zach, before all the lights went off.
"NICK!" hollered Mike.
"I didn't do ANYTHING!" Nick wailed back.
"It's not just here," said Zach, "listen to the wracket outside." They could clearly hear the screams and shouts from outside the room.
"Yeah, even I don't have the power to do that," said Nick.
"You never know," retorted Mike. "Zach, what's the temperature?"
"And two," said Zach, finishing his original sentence.
"Oh wow, it worked," said Mike with relieved surprise.
Nick cheered somewhere in the dark.
Friday, September 23, 2005
October- A few moments
A few moments after Nick and Zach was administering the wet-towel Mike also returned. He thrusted the tin-box at Zach. "Is this it?"
"Yep, thanks," Zach found the thermometer inside the box. "Someone with a watch call out when five minute's passed, please."
"Isn't three minutes enough?" asked Mike, shoving things out of his way with his foot. "It's a good thing your roommate's not here," he told Nick. "He'd freak out if he saw this."
"Yeah, thank God he went home already," agreed Nick.
"We want to be accurate," answered Zach, who was looking through the tin box. "Does someone who look like human react to human medication? I mean, what're the chances...? And do we have to worry about allergic reactions?"
Both Mike and Nick gave him a weird look.
"Okay, point taken," muttered Zach. "Maybe we won't even need to give her medicine, which is probably a very good thing because...time? Anyone?"
"Two minutes and four seconds," said Mike.
"Two minutes and eleven seconds," said Nick.
"Your watch sucks," Mike informed Nick, who scowled at him.
"We'll call two minutes and eight seconds, plus or minus four seconds," said Zach dryly. "Thank God none of us're going into nuclear physics."
"Actually," said Mike slowly, "That'd be sort of cool..."
"You get to blow up stuff," said Nick helpfully, when Zach just looked at him.
"Please, Nick, don't give him ideas."
"Too late!" declared Mike, grinning evily. Zach groaned.
"You're the one who brought it up in the first place," pointed out Nick very reasonably.
"Don't remind me," muttered Zach, then, "Nick, have you checked to see if she had any other injuries? Internal bleeding, concussion..." He added, upon Nick's blank look.
"And how am I suppose to check those?" asked Nick.
"Fair point." Conceded Zach, "there's no way you could've gotten her blood pressure, we might check for concussion though...do you have a flashlight?"
"Lamp?" volunteered Nick, holding up his desk lamp, power cord trailing.
"Er. We can try, I guess," said Zach dubiously. He opened one of the girl's eye. "Shine the light in her eye please. Okay, now the other one...." They watched her pupils shrink. "I THINK that means she's okay in her head then...." He squinted at Nick. "Do mind turning the light off now."
"Of course," Nick turned the lamp off and sat it back down, then walked over and sat on his roommate's bed and regarded the now blanket-covered girl with some apprehension.
"Time?" asked Zach after a moment of silence.
"Twenty-eight seconds left," called out Mike, with a 'so-there' look at Nick. Nick rewarded him with an exaggerated frown. Zach looked at the ceiling with a beseeching 'why-me' expression.
"Happy Halloween," said Zach, a moment later. He was still looking at the ceiling.
"Happy Halloween," echoed Nick, remembering and smiling at everyone and everything in general.
"Yeah, you too," mumbled Mike. "Time!" He called, and took out the thermometer. He looked at it, scowled, and handed it to Zach.
"What is it?" asked Nick, his smile quickly disappearing.
"Her temperature is at a hundred and six," said Zach quietly. "Now let's worry about how we can get pills down the throat of someone who's unconscious. Suggestions, anyone?"
"Yep, thanks," Zach found the thermometer inside the box. "Someone with a watch call out when five minute's passed, please."
"Isn't three minutes enough?" asked Mike, shoving things out of his way with his foot. "It's a good thing your roommate's not here," he told Nick. "He'd freak out if he saw this."
"Yeah, thank God he went home already," agreed Nick.
"We want to be accurate," answered Zach, who was looking through the tin box. "Does someone who look like human react to human medication? I mean, what're the chances...? And do we have to worry about allergic reactions?"
Both Mike and Nick gave him a weird look.
"Okay, point taken," muttered Zach. "Maybe we won't even need to give her medicine, which is probably a very good thing because...time? Anyone?"
"Two minutes and four seconds," said Mike.
"Two minutes and eleven seconds," said Nick.
"Your watch sucks," Mike informed Nick, who scowled at him.
"We'll call two minutes and eight seconds, plus or minus four seconds," said Zach dryly. "Thank God none of us're going into nuclear physics."
"Actually," said Mike slowly, "That'd be sort of cool..."
"You get to blow up stuff," said Nick helpfully, when Zach just looked at him.
"Please, Nick, don't give him ideas."
"Too late!" declared Mike, grinning evily. Zach groaned.
"You're the one who brought it up in the first place," pointed out Nick very reasonably.
"Don't remind me," muttered Zach, then, "Nick, have you checked to see if she had any other injuries? Internal bleeding, concussion..." He added, upon Nick's blank look.
"And how am I suppose to check those?" asked Nick.
"Fair point." Conceded Zach, "there's no way you could've gotten her blood pressure, we might check for concussion though...do you have a flashlight?"
"Lamp?" volunteered Nick, holding up his desk lamp, power cord trailing.
"Er. We can try, I guess," said Zach dubiously. He opened one of the girl's eye. "Shine the light in her eye please. Okay, now the other one...." They watched her pupils shrink. "I THINK that means she's okay in her head then...." He squinted at Nick. "Do mind turning the light off now."
"Of course," Nick turned the lamp off and sat it back down, then walked over and sat on his roommate's bed and regarded the now blanket-covered girl with some apprehension.
"Time?" asked Zach after a moment of silence.
"Twenty-eight seconds left," called out Mike, with a 'so-there' look at Nick. Nick rewarded him with an exaggerated frown. Zach looked at the ceiling with a beseeching 'why-me' expression.
"Happy Halloween," said Zach, a moment later. He was still looking at the ceiling.
"Happy Halloween," echoed Nick, remembering and smiling at everyone and everything in general.
"Yeah, you too," mumbled Mike. "Time!" He called, and took out the thermometer. He looked at it, scowled, and handed it to Zach.
"What is it?" asked Nick, his smile quickly disappearing.
"Her temperature is at a hundred and six," said Zach quietly. "Now let's worry about how we can get pills down the throat of someone who's unconscious. Suggestions, anyone?"
Thursday, September 22, 2005
October-Nick
Nick nudged a box and some furniturs aside with his foot as he took an expedition to the inside of the small refrigerator that he and his roommate shared. "Um...ice cream?"
"No, you keep that," said Zach. "Towels?"
"Yes, I use towels," answered Nick, wading his way back over his backpack and a pile of books.
"We better wet one and put it on her head," Zach tried checking the girl's temperature again. "I don't know exactly how high her fever is, but we've got to try to keep her temperature down from being too high, manually."
"Okay," Nick clambered over the foot of the bed to reach the closet. "Towels, towels, towel...."
"Some sort of large container for water'd be good too," suggested Zach. "So we don't have to go back out every time we need to rinse something."
"They're still partying out there?" Nick made a face as he threw a towel at Zach. "Something to hold water...er...I have a mug...?"
"Anything in the fridge we can use?" asked Zach.
"Not unless you count the fridge itself, which is heavy," said Nick doubtfully.
"Fine, we'll make do then," Zach carefully picked his way to the door with the towel, and paused. "And Nick?"
"Yeah?"
"You're sure about the no hospital thing?"
Nick looked nervous again. "Y-yes."
"Okay," Zach looked at him, then at the girl again. "For goodness's sake find the poor girl a blanket, will you? She HAS a fever you know." He quickly opened the door, slipped out, and shut it again behind him.
Nick grumbled to himself as he went blanket hunting among his many stray boxes, but he was also smiling because he knew that in a few moments Zach would be back, and then Mike, and that he was not going to go through with his decision alone. Then he nearly howled because he banged his funny bone against the leg of the wayward chair.
"No, you keep that," said Zach. "Towels?"
"Yes, I use towels," answered Nick, wading his way back over his backpack and a pile of books.
"We better wet one and put it on her head," Zach tried checking the girl's temperature again. "I don't know exactly how high her fever is, but we've got to try to keep her temperature down from being too high, manually."
"Okay," Nick clambered over the foot of the bed to reach the closet. "Towels, towels, towel...."
"Some sort of large container for water'd be good too," suggested Zach. "So we don't have to go back out every time we need to rinse something."
"They're still partying out there?" Nick made a face as he threw a towel at Zach. "Something to hold water...er...I have a mug...?"
"Anything in the fridge we can use?" asked Zach.
"Not unless you count the fridge itself, which is heavy," said Nick doubtfully.
"Fine, we'll make do then," Zach carefully picked his way to the door with the towel, and paused. "And Nick?"
"Yeah?"
"You're sure about the no hospital thing?"
Nick looked nervous again. "Y-yes."
"Okay," Zach looked at him, then at the girl again. "For goodness's sake find the poor girl a blanket, will you? She HAS a fever you know." He quickly opened the door, slipped out, and shut it again behind him.
Nick grumbled to himself as he went blanket hunting among his many stray boxes, but he was also smiling because he knew that in a few moments Zach would be back, and then Mike, and that he was not going to go through with his decision alone. Then he nearly howled because he banged his funny bone against the leg of the wayward chair.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
October- "Let me check"
"Let me check to see if I heard it right," said Zach heavily. He dropped the thin wrist that he'd been holding...that seemed solid enough...and gingerly prodded the bed, which seemed reasonbly (and expectably) solid too. "You found an unconscious girl in front of your door, you carried her inside, put her on the bed, she fell THROUGH the bed, and you had to move the bed and everything around it to get to her after she had fallen THROUGH the bed?"
"Are you drunk?" demanded Mike, trying to peer into Nick's face, but Nick wouldn't let him.
"I am NOT drunk, nor have I been drinkin!" declared Nick.
"Here's a question then," Mike crossed his arms. "How come she is lying on the bed right now, just like a regular human being? Zach--what are you doing?" He added, because Zach as feeling his forehead.
"Double-checking," muttered Zach, who had the other hand on the girl's forehead.
"Right, anyway," continued Mike. He eyed the girl suspiciously, "She IS human, isn't she?"
"I don't KNOW!" wailed Nick, "she looks like one!?"
"Ah," Zach stopped on checking whether the girl had swollen nymph nodes and looked up. "That's the problem. See, if you had an apple that looked and tasted like an apple, then it's okay. If you had an apple that neither looked nor tasted like an apple, then that's sort of okay too. But when you have an apple that looks like an apple but tastes like something else, then there's a problem. Never mind," he mumbled in response to the expressions he was receiving.
"That makes sense," remarked Mike. "Sort of."
"Er," said Nick.
"Three percent?" inquired Zach, meaning how much sense he was making.
"I'd give it five," said Mike.
"Thanks," Zach sighed and looked at his two friends. "Alright, ASSUMING that she is human and ASSUMING that her body is behaving like human bodies do--"
"You don't have to use 'assuming' so many times," said Nick.
"But we're making a lot of assumptions," protested Zach.
"Cut it out," said Mike.
"Fine," said Zach. "IF her body is human--"
Mike groaned.
"Then she is unconscious and has a fever," continued Zach, ignoring Mike. "And IF her body respondes to med the way humans do..."
"No hospitals," said Nick.
"Right," said Zach, who looked pale and worried. He fished out his keys and tossed it to Mike. "You know where my room is, right?"
"Of course not," retorted Mike sarcastically, "I've only been there a few hundred times."
"Great," said Zach, "Second desk drawer, there's a tin-box. You can double check if you want, but it should be a med-kit...mother forced me to bring one...." He explained. "We're helping, aren't we?" he added.
" 'Course," said Mike, and was out the door, closing it carefully behind him.
"Oookay," said Zach, sighing for the third time in the past five minutes. He looked at the girl, then at Nick. "Don't suppose you have an ice-pack?"
_______________________________________
I spilt the water that I was drinking on myself when I saw yesterday's comment.
I wonder if writers generally suffer from attacks of conscience?
Joking...joking.
I KNOW some do.
"Are you drunk?" demanded Mike, trying to peer into Nick's face, but Nick wouldn't let him.
"I am NOT drunk, nor have I been drinkin!" declared Nick.
"Here's a question then," Mike crossed his arms. "How come she is lying on the bed right now, just like a regular human being? Zach--what are you doing?" He added, because Zach as feeling his forehead.
"Double-checking," muttered Zach, who had the other hand on the girl's forehead.
"Right, anyway," continued Mike. He eyed the girl suspiciously, "She IS human, isn't she?"
"I don't KNOW!" wailed Nick, "she looks like one!?"
"Ah," Zach stopped on checking whether the girl had swollen nymph nodes and looked up. "That's the problem. See, if you had an apple that looked and tasted like an apple, then it's okay. If you had an apple that neither looked nor tasted like an apple, then that's sort of okay too. But when you have an apple that looks like an apple but tastes like something else, then there's a problem. Never mind," he mumbled in response to the expressions he was receiving.
"That makes sense," remarked Mike. "Sort of."
"Er," said Nick.
"Three percent?" inquired Zach, meaning how much sense he was making.
"I'd give it five," said Mike.
"Thanks," Zach sighed and looked at his two friends. "Alright, ASSUMING that she is human and ASSUMING that her body is behaving like human bodies do--"
"You don't have to use 'assuming' so many times," said Nick.
"But we're making a lot of assumptions," protested Zach.
"Cut it out," said Mike.
"Fine," said Zach. "IF her body is human--"
Mike groaned.
"Then she is unconscious and has a fever," continued Zach, ignoring Mike. "And IF her body respondes to med the way humans do..."
"No hospitals," said Nick.
"Right," said Zach, who looked pale and worried. He fished out his keys and tossed it to Mike. "You know where my room is, right?"
"Of course not," retorted Mike sarcastically, "I've only been there a few hundred times."
"Great," said Zach, "Second desk drawer, there's a tin-box. You can double check if you want, but it should be a med-kit...mother forced me to bring one...." He explained. "We're helping, aren't we?" he added.
" 'Course," said Mike, and was out the door, closing it carefully behind him.
"Oookay," said Zach, sighing for the third time in the past five minutes. He looked at the girl, then at Nick. "Don't suppose you have an ice-pack?"
_______________________________________
I spilt the water that I was drinking on myself when I saw yesterday's comment.
I wonder if writers generally suffer from attacks of conscience?
Joking...joking.
I KNOW some do.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
October-"Because"
"Because," explained Nick, "I needed the room."
"...for?" prompted Zach, painfully hauling himself to his feet.
"To move," said Nick wretchedly, "there wouldn't be enough room otherwise!"
"To move WHAT?" asked Mike, feeling around in the dark for the lamp.
"The bed--" said Nick.
"And WHY do you need to move the bed?" sighed Zach, the same time that Mike found the lamp and turned it on.
The room was a mess, to put it mildly, or at least Nick's side of the room was. All his things formed sorts of loose tidal drift around the bed, and the bed was near the middle of the room, angled as if it might decide to charge out of the room at a moment's notice.
And there was a girl in the bed. And she appeared to be unconscious.
Now, it's been observed that teens in general frequently say one thing when they meant another. The specific causes of this remains unknown, however, it is hypothesized that the response is a subconscious way of dealing with things when the said things fall outside of the expected parameters. Of course it's not particularly effective, but better something than nothing at all is the philosophy of the time.
"Um," said Zach, who, propped against the back of chair, was the closest to the bed. Translated, he probably meant something along the lines of "I really don't want to know what had happened, but I'm probaby going to have to know, and I would really like you to tell me what will happen, Nick."
"Meh," said Mike, who was next to the lamp. What he really meant to say was something like "Someone please tell me what the hell is going on and what the hell we're going to do about it."
"Er," said Nick, who really meant "Okay now you guys'd seen this, I need some help, please?"
Mike and Zach looked at each other, then at the girl, then at Nick.
"It really isn't what you think--" began Nick, sounding even more wretchedly desperate. Or was that desperately wretched?
"Oh good," commented Mike sarcastically, "You mean you didn't get her drunk and in trouble?"
"NO!" Nick glared at Mike, evidently insulted that Mike would even consider such a thing, joking or no. "I found her just outside my door," he continued nervously, "unconscious."
"And you carried her inside?" said Zach, who was checking that the pale-faced girl was indeed still breathing. "How very gallant of you, d'Artagnan. Couldn't you have called the ambulance?" He looked worried. "Have you called the ambulence yet?"
"No, and I'm not going to." Said Nick with shaky resolution.
"Why not?" exclaimed Mike, "And why on earth is your room like this?"
"I can't!" said Nick, who was looking very agitated, "Look, there's a problem--"
"Let's hear it," said Mike, with Zach somewhere in the background, taking the girl's pulse.
"When I first carried her in and put her on the bed," said a distressed Nick in a rush, "she fell through the bed and I had to move the bed and everything underneath it to get to her."
Zach's head snapped up. He and Mike stared at Nick, who looked back at them pleadingly.
"She fell," repeated Zach stupidly.
"THROUGH the bed?" said Mike incredulously.
"...for?" prompted Zach, painfully hauling himself to his feet.
"To move," said Nick wretchedly, "there wouldn't be enough room otherwise!"
"To move WHAT?" asked Mike, feeling around in the dark for the lamp.
"The bed--" said Nick.
"And WHY do you need to move the bed?" sighed Zach, the same time that Mike found the lamp and turned it on.
The room was a mess, to put it mildly, or at least Nick's side of the room was. All his things formed sorts of loose tidal drift around the bed, and the bed was near the middle of the room, angled as if it might decide to charge out of the room at a moment's notice.
And there was a girl in the bed. And she appeared to be unconscious.
Now, it's been observed that teens in general frequently say one thing when they meant another. The specific causes of this remains unknown, however, it is hypothesized that the response is a subconscious way of dealing with things when the said things fall outside of the expected parameters. Of course it's not particularly effective, but better something than nothing at all is the philosophy of the time.
"Um," said Zach, who, propped against the back of chair, was the closest to the bed. Translated, he probably meant something along the lines of "I really don't want to know what had happened, but I'm probaby going to have to know, and I would really like you to tell me what will happen, Nick."
"Meh," said Mike, who was next to the lamp. What he really meant to say was something like "Someone please tell me what the hell is going on and what the hell we're going to do about it."
"Er," said Nick, who really meant "Okay now you guys'd seen this, I need some help, please?"
Mike and Zach looked at each other, then at the girl, then at Nick.
"It really isn't what you think--" began Nick, sounding even more wretchedly desperate. Or was that desperately wretched?
"Oh good," commented Mike sarcastically, "You mean you didn't get her drunk and in trouble?"
"NO!" Nick glared at Mike, evidently insulted that Mike would even consider such a thing, joking or no. "I found her just outside my door," he continued nervously, "unconscious."
"And you carried her inside?" said Zach, who was checking that the pale-faced girl was indeed still breathing. "How very gallant of you, d'Artagnan. Couldn't you have called the ambulance?" He looked worried. "Have you called the ambulence yet?"
"No, and I'm not going to." Said Nick with shaky resolution.
"Why not?" exclaimed Mike, "And why on earth is your room like this?"
"I can't!" said Nick, who was looking very agitated, "Look, there's a problem--"
"Let's hear it," said Mike, with Zach somewhere in the background, taking the girl's pulse.
"When I first carried her in and put her on the bed," said a distressed Nick in a rush, "she fell through the bed and I had to move the bed and everything underneath it to get to her."
Zach's head snapped up. He and Mike stared at Nick, who looked back at them pleadingly.
"She fell," repeated Zach stupidly.
"THROUGH the bed?" said Mike incredulously.
Monday, September 19, 2005
October- Irving Hall
Irving Hall was one of the few unusual dorms on campus where it had student rooms on the first floor instead of the usual lobby-like reception and study areas that many other places featured. Aside from its unusual presence, however, the first floor there, where Nicolas Lucille lived, was appallingly normal. Mike and Zach passed by a few small open-roomed parties on their way in and Zach nearly got knocked over by a milling group of half-drunken students who were less concerned about the legal age for alcohol than he. However, the corner where Nick was was very quiet, meaning that either most of the people there had already departed for home (since Halloween fell upon a Friday this year), or they were getting drunk somewhere else.
Mike stopped in front of Nick's door, raised his hand, and looked at Zach, who shrugged. Mike shrugged in response and gave the door a sharp rap that was very characteristic of Mike.
"Who is it?" called Nick. Or, in this case, " 'hoo eez et?"
"Me," snapped Mike, worries making him rather more sarcastic than he would normally be under the given circumstances. "Unless you've invited some other people to your mid-night no-explanation party that I don't know about?"
"Would that be me?" asked Zach. "Open up, Nick!" he said hastily, when Mike just gave him that LOOK of his.
Very, very slowly and cautiously the door opened a crack and Nick peered out into the hallway with a sort of meticulous paranoia that was thoroughly worthy of any spy movie that was worth its salt (and all the ones that weren't), but that was thoroughly out of place in the appallingly normal student dorm hallway.
Mike was no where near as cautious. He pushed his way in past Nick. "Geez we're not serial killers."
"The only thing I've killed today is my bio worksheet and a week's worth of humor," agreed Zach, slipping in behind him.
Nick gave a nervous laugh and shut the door again. The room immediately went to the particular pitch of darkness that could only result from securely drawn curtains, no light, and a general feel of subdued panic that hovered in the air.
"Can't you turn on the light?" complained Mike, taking a step in where he remembered the floor lamp to be and immediately tripped over something that definitely shouldn't be there. Zach, without thinking, took a step in the direction of Mike's voice, stumbled over something else, and fell with a startled squawk and a crash. Nick flung out his hand and caught Mike's arm with the consequence that Mike, swung around by the force of his own inertia, fell against the wall with a thud.
"Watch out," said Nick, apologetically.
"Urgh," said Mike. "Thanks for the warning."
"Why's your chair and suitcase in the middle of the room, Nick?" Came Zach's faint, disembodied voice from somewhere near the center of the room.
_________________________________
lol Glad you are aware of the fact that you are not a French guy, Lucy. Very glad. I recall something about an issue with gender confusion in calc, but ethnicity confusion...is that a new twist...?
Chill. The story's just begun.
Mike stopped in front of Nick's door, raised his hand, and looked at Zach, who shrugged. Mike shrugged in response and gave the door a sharp rap that was very characteristic of Mike.
"Who is it?" called Nick. Or, in this case, " 'hoo eez et?"
"Me," snapped Mike, worries making him rather more sarcastic than he would normally be under the given circumstances. "Unless you've invited some other people to your mid-night no-explanation party that I don't know about?"
"Would that be me?" asked Zach. "Open up, Nick!" he said hastily, when Mike just gave him that LOOK of his.
Very, very slowly and cautiously the door opened a crack and Nick peered out into the hallway with a sort of meticulous paranoia that was thoroughly worthy of any spy movie that was worth its salt (and all the ones that weren't), but that was thoroughly out of place in the appallingly normal student dorm hallway.
Mike was no where near as cautious. He pushed his way in past Nick. "Geez we're not serial killers."
"The only thing I've killed today is my bio worksheet and a week's worth of humor," agreed Zach, slipping in behind him.
Nick gave a nervous laugh and shut the door again. The room immediately went to the particular pitch of darkness that could only result from securely drawn curtains, no light, and a general feel of subdued panic that hovered in the air.
"Can't you turn on the light?" complained Mike, taking a step in where he remembered the floor lamp to be and immediately tripped over something that definitely shouldn't be there. Zach, without thinking, took a step in the direction of Mike's voice, stumbled over something else, and fell with a startled squawk and a crash. Nick flung out his hand and caught Mike's arm with the consequence that Mike, swung around by the force of his own inertia, fell against the wall with a thud.
"Watch out," said Nick, apologetically.
"Urgh," said Mike. "Thanks for the warning."
"Why's your chair and suitcase in the middle of the room, Nick?" Came Zach's faint, disembodied voice from somewhere near the center of the room.
_________________________________
lol Glad you are aware of the fact that you are not a French guy, Lucy. Very glad. I recall something about an issue with gender confusion in calc, but ethnicity confusion...is that a new twist...?
Chill. The story's just begun.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
October- "Hello?"
"Hello?" said Mike into his cell phone. He wondered why Nick was calling him at this hour. This was when he'd supposed Nick generally went to bed.
"Mike?" said Nick, confirming that it was indeed he who was at the other end of the phone. His accent was thick like it always was when he was nervous. Or uncertain. Or both. "Can you come over? Soon?"
Mike frowned. "Soon as in...?"
"Er. Now?" suggested Nick hopefully.
"What's up?" asked Mike, getting out of his slouch. His mind did likewise and realized that there must be something wrong.
"Um, well, it's, er, you see..."
Mike was seriously getting a little worried. "...Nick...?"
"Uh, it's hard to explain over the phone...can you just come over? Quickly? 'k thanks!" He hung up.
Mike stared at his cellphone which, of course, did not display any useful information about the going-ons on the other end of the line.
"Huh," said Mike, who grabbed his keys and went out the door, much to the annoyance of his roommate. His eclectic nighttime schedule could sometimes drive a person nuts, and turn a previously-established nutcase into an accomplice.
Reaching Nick's dorm meant going across about a quarter of the campus, crossing the quad and the library area. Halfway there Mike spotted someone familiar. "Hey Zach!"
Zach stopped and looked around. He had thrown on an oversized jacket that made him look even scrawnier. He was also ruffled and bleary-eyed. "I'm guessing Nick called you too?" He asked without much curiousity, and yawned.
"Have you been SLEEPING already?" inquired Mike, "It's not even midnight yet! Nevermind," he hurriedly added. "Forgot for a moment who I was talking to."
"Right," said Zach. "I sleep two hours before midnight and you consider sleeping two hours after midnight so let's not argue, 'k?" He sighed and rubbed his face. "Don't suppose you know why Nick called?"
"Nope," confirmed Mike. "He wouldn't talk about it over the phone."
"He doesn't seem to be the sort to get into trouble at a party, even if it's Holloween. And if it's really some sort of major crises he probably would've called nine-one-one already." Said Zach.
"He sounded okay...just nervous," said Mike.
They looked at each other.
"Okay," said Zach as they entered the building...the night guard was already familiar with them. "I guess we'll see."
"That we will," agreed Mike.
"Mike?" said Nick, confirming that it was indeed he who was at the other end of the phone. His accent was thick like it always was when he was nervous. Or uncertain. Or both. "Can you come over? Soon?"
Mike frowned. "Soon as in...?"
"Er. Now?" suggested Nick hopefully.
"What's up?" asked Mike, getting out of his slouch. His mind did likewise and realized that there must be something wrong.
"Um, well, it's, er, you see..."
Mike was seriously getting a little worried. "...Nick...?"
"Uh, it's hard to explain over the phone...can you just come over? Quickly? 'k thanks!" He hung up.
Mike stared at his cellphone which, of course, did not display any useful information about the going-ons on the other end of the line.
"Huh," said Mike, who grabbed his keys and went out the door, much to the annoyance of his roommate. His eclectic nighttime schedule could sometimes drive a person nuts, and turn a previously-established nutcase into an accomplice.
Reaching Nick's dorm meant going across about a quarter of the campus, crossing the quad and the library area. Halfway there Mike spotted someone familiar. "Hey Zach!"
Zach stopped and looked around. He had thrown on an oversized jacket that made him look even scrawnier. He was also ruffled and bleary-eyed. "I'm guessing Nick called you too?" He asked without much curiousity, and yawned.
"Have you been SLEEPING already?" inquired Mike, "It's not even midnight yet! Nevermind," he hurriedly added. "Forgot for a moment who I was talking to."
"Right," said Zach. "I sleep two hours before midnight and you consider sleeping two hours after midnight so let's not argue, 'k?" He sighed and rubbed his face. "Don't suppose you know why Nick called?"
"Nope," confirmed Mike. "He wouldn't talk about it over the phone."
"He doesn't seem to be the sort to get into trouble at a party, even if it's Holloween. And if it's really some sort of major crises he probably would've called nine-one-one already." Said Zach.
"He sounded okay...just nervous," said Mike.
They looked at each other.
"Okay," said Zach as they entered the building...the night guard was already familiar with them. "I guess we'll see."
"That we will," agreed Mike.
Friday, September 16, 2005
October- Aside
Aside from these thoughts, however, time was passing-if you will excuse of the world-perfectly normally. Near the end of October Mike and Nick dragged Zach away from his studies on his birthday to take him out to dinner and try to get him drunk, which was a bit difficult since Zach refused to touch a single drop of alcohol.
"Aw, com'on," coaxed Mike over the slices of cake that Zach had ordered. "You're legally an adult now, right?"
"Alcohol, twenty-one," said Zach, stubbornly refusing to touch the glass in front of him.
"Aren't you overreacting?" pointed out Nick. "It's not even HALF a glass. Just a taste?"
Zach crossed his arms and looked obstinate. He was rather good at it.
"Fine," said Nick, giving up on the occasion. He brightened. "Why don't we sing 'happy birthday?'" He said to Mike.
Zach's stared up at them, hazel eyes full of horror. However, before he could get out a single syllable Nick had already launched into the song, slightly off-tune in his enthusiasm and with a distinctive French accent. After a moment Mike joined in, looking, in Zach's opinion, inappropriately cheerful. By the end of the song most of the people in the restaurant were staring at them and Zach, blushing furiously, was seriously consider bolting out the room.
"Thoroughly humiliated yet?" asked Mike among the scattered applause that received the end of their musical efforts.
Zach, who had been staring resolutely at his napkin during most of the serenade, glanced up at him. "More like mortified," he said, with a weak grin. "Can we leave now?"
His two older friends grinned at each other. There was nothing embarrassed about their expression.
"Of course," said Nick.
"It's your birthday," said Mike.
It might be noted for the records that the manager, who had watched the entire performance, was inspired as to later hire live performances in the restaurant. But that was how it went in this strange world.
The restaurant became quite popular. It later opened up another branch somewhere else, and then another branch. Soon there were people accusing it over taking over world markets.
This is an example of how one thing could lead to another and how utterly useless it is for us to try to predict all the possible consequences of each event. At least, while we're still within these dimensions. Another example would be Nick, as he walked back to the dorms one night. Had he gone five minutes earlier or five seconds later he would have doubtlessly never suspected a thing but, because he was where he was at when he was, a long sequence of events was changed.
Of course, like all linear-time-bound, bipedal life forms, Nicolas had no idea at the time.
_________________________________________
In honour of all the LUNATICS strange singing-in-public moments *salutes*.
"Aw, com'on," coaxed Mike over the slices of cake that Zach had ordered. "You're legally an adult now, right?"
"Alcohol, twenty-one," said Zach, stubbornly refusing to touch the glass in front of him.
"Aren't you overreacting?" pointed out Nick. "It's not even HALF a glass. Just a taste?"
Zach crossed his arms and looked obstinate. He was rather good at it.
"Fine," said Nick, giving up on the occasion. He brightened. "Why don't we sing 'happy birthday?'" He said to Mike.
Zach's stared up at them, hazel eyes full of horror. However, before he could get out a single syllable Nick had already launched into the song, slightly off-tune in his enthusiasm and with a distinctive French accent. After a moment Mike joined in, looking, in Zach's opinion, inappropriately cheerful. By the end of the song most of the people in the restaurant were staring at them and Zach, blushing furiously, was seriously consider bolting out the room.
"Thoroughly humiliated yet?" asked Mike among the scattered applause that received the end of their musical efforts.
Zach, who had been staring resolutely at his napkin during most of the serenade, glanced up at him. "More like mortified," he said, with a weak grin. "Can we leave now?"
His two older friends grinned at each other. There was nothing embarrassed about their expression.
"Of course," said Nick.
"It's your birthday," said Mike.
It might be noted for the records that the manager, who had watched the entire performance, was inspired as to later hire live performances in the restaurant. But that was how it went in this strange world.
The restaurant became quite popular. It later opened up another branch somewhere else, and then another branch. Soon there were people accusing it over taking over world markets.
This is an example of how one thing could lead to another and how utterly useless it is for us to try to predict all the possible consequences of each event. At least, while we're still within these dimensions. Another example would be Nick, as he walked back to the dorms one night. Had he gone five minutes earlier or five seconds later he would have doubtlessly never suspected a thing but, because he was where he was at when he was, a long sequence of events was changed.
Of course, like all linear-time-bound, bipedal life forms, Nicolas had no idea at the time.
_________________________________________
In honour of all the LUNATICS strange singing-in-public moments *salutes*.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
October- Once
Once a person has started to look for something, that person may see it all the time and, consequently, over a period of time, can be considered to be experts at finding that something. Experts, if you will.
From the quite accidental breach into the subjects of strangeness around them, Mike, Zach, and Nick had become professional-leveled weirdness detectors. The only reason why they haven't gotten nominations yet was because sometimes their readings get a little bit off from the amount of weirdness caused by themselves which could, upon occasions, be quite a distraction.
Mike, after being introduced to the idea of Catch-22 by Zach, had discovered much paradoxical logic around him. He had, in fact, concluded that the world was going to hell but since many people from various countries had already predicted this (some of them under the influence of chemicals of a questionable nature) he was unable to seriously further his theory. Also, the fact that he consider being commended by his math professor a Truly Strange Ordeal prevented the others from taking him too seriously. Nevertheless, it was possible for Mike to deduce that the world was guided by laws that worked like a leaky steam-boiler in a thermonuclear reaction.
In other words: it doesn't.
Zach, being true to his major, noted the strange things people did and were doing, such as loving and hating others because of something people see in themselves, people blocking other people out and then complaining about being alone or people, after a successful life, deciding that they'd rather move to Switzerland and herd goats. He felt rather sorry for the goats.
Nick just concluded the world was nutsy and enjoyed it, his cheery reasoning being that the world'd be a horribly boring place if everything were perfectly normal.
___________________________
Let come what may. Be prepared to wave 'bye-bye' to normality! (I think this'll turn out to be fantasy fiction, by the way.)
From the quite accidental breach into the subjects of strangeness around them, Mike, Zach, and Nick had become professional-leveled weirdness detectors. The only reason why they haven't gotten nominations yet was because sometimes their readings get a little bit off from the amount of weirdness caused by themselves which could, upon occasions, be quite a distraction.
Mike, after being introduced to the idea of Catch-22 by Zach, had discovered much paradoxical logic around him. He had, in fact, concluded that the world was going to hell but since many people from various countries had already predicted this (some of them under the influence of chemicals of a questionable nature) he was unable to seriously further his theory. Also, the fact that he consider being commended by his math professor a Truly Strange Ordeal prevented the others from taking him too seriously. Nevertheless, it was possible for Mike to deduce that the world was guided by laws that worked like a leaky steam-boiler in a thermonuclear reaction.
In other words: it doesn't.
Zach, being true to his major, noted the strange things people did and were doing, such as loving and hating others because of something people see in themselves, people blocking other people out and then complaining about being alone or people, after a successful life, deciding that they'd rather move to Switzerland and herd goats. He felt rather sorry for the goats.
Nick just concluded the world was nutsy and enjoyed it, his cheery reasoning being that the world'd be a horribly boring place if everything were perfectly normal.
___________________________
Let come what may. Be prepared to wave 'bye-bye' to normality! (I think this'll turn out to be fantasy fiction, by the way.)
Sunday, September 11, 2005
September- "Do you"
"Do you WANT to be punched?" demanded Mike, brownish hair standing on end as he waved a fist at Nick. Translated, the threat meant something along the lines of 'I-really-hate-what-you-just-did-so-cut-it-out-will-ya', except much more eloquently and forcefully.
"How come you're always threatening to punch ME," inquired Nick as he exaggeratedly dodged the fist that Mike was waving in front of his face. "Why don't you punch Zach?"
At this Mike paused, Nick straightened, and both turned to look at Zach, who quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. He usually preferred to watch explosions like these from a safe distance, though granted that safe distance was severely hampered by the fact that the furthered he could go in any direction at the moment was about one and a half feet.
"Dunno," confessed Mike, turning to Nick again. "You're more fun to punch..." he ignored Nick's indignant sputtering. "Besides, I might accidentally break his bones...."
Zach decided that the prudent thing to do at the moment was to sit still and keep his mouth shut.
"Well fine!" said Nick, drawing himself up to his full height, which was taller than either Mike or Zach, and glared down his long nose at Mike. "Be that way!"
"I am," said Mike with a grin, promptly returning to his succinct and reckless self.
"Not much options there," said Zach under his breath as he continued his reading. "Forecast said it'll be hot today. Think we can trust it?" he said aloud.
"What's the forecast for yesterday?" asked Nick.
Zach checked. "The same."
"Then," said Mike. "No. Did you SEE the weather last night? I mean...what was THAT?"
"It's called rain," said Nick, and received a glare for his answer.
"I KNOW it's rain, Nick," said Mike, rolling his eyes.
"At least we aren't the only ones stuck with the odd weather," said Zach. "Though, of course that's not exactly reassuring...just think about all the things that'd happened already...terrorists, minor wars, earth quakes, tsunami...."
"Yeah," agreed Mike. "What's with that?"
"...droughts, floods, though in different areas, of course," continued Zach. "wild fires, at least no reported volcano eruptions...yet..."
"Okay," said Mike, "Now you're just making me depressed."
"Let's talk about something happy!" said Nick brightly, at a level of brightness that was over Mike's sunglass-ed tolerance. He got another glare.
"Oh...oh!" said Mike, who's memory was been brought on by the previous morbid thoughts. "Zach, have you ever heard of this theory about the end of the world?"
"Which one?" said Zach dryly, without attempting to be funny.
"Ha. Ha." said Mike. "Right. Any of the main ones. I mean according to the terms, the world going crazy means the world's going to end soon."
"Mike," said Zach skeptically. "The world's been going crazy for years."
"It's bound to happen soon," argued Mike.
"It hasn't happened yet," countered Zach.
"You guys are so cheerful," said Nick, who had spent enough time now to catch along some of the sarcasm.
"He started it," said Mike, pointing to Zach.
"Go me," said Zach, more dryly still.
And that was how the traits of insanity of the world in general was first brought up. In less than three days it became a sort of a joke in which they picked out and made a note of everything strange around them:
The distance of the planets this year with regards to earth, which everyone in the field of astronomy had been goggling over. A perfectly healthy tree which had fallen over for no particular reason and smashed a car to smithereens. Sudden formation of a small tornado in a decidedly not-tornado-land area. Things exploding. Things falling. Things showing up in strange places for on strange reasons and driving everyone around them bonkers. And also the fact that there were people being nice to Mike which, he claimed, was both strange AND scary, which Nick had argued against. Zach, after thoughtfully watching them argue for a moment, inquired whether or not he should add their name to the list of strange things.
"Sure," said Mike.
Thus, their names were added to the list, right below the 456,751,342th cat who had fallen out of a tree that week and the discovery of live cockroaches in a tomb that had been supposedly sealed from the outside world for the past few centuries.
__________________________________________
End of September's chapter...we'll see how goes from here.
"How come you're always threatening to punch ME," inquired Nick as he exaggeratedly dodged the fist that Mike was waving in front of his face. "Why don't you punch Zach?"
At this Mike paused, Nick straightened, and both turned to look at Zach, who quirked an eyebrow and shrugged. He usually preferred to watch explosions like these from a safe distance, though granted that safe distance was severely hampered by the fact that the furthered he could go in any direction at the moment was about one and a half feet.
"Dunno," confessed Mike, turning to Nick again. "You're more fun to punch..." he ignored Nick's indignant sputtering. "Besides, I might accidentally break his bones...."
Zach decided that the prudent thing to do at the moment was to sit still and keep his mouth shut.
"Well fine!" said Nick, drawing himself up to his full height, which was taller than either Mike or Zach, and glared down his long nose at Mike. "Be that way!"
"I am," said Mike with a grin, promptly returning to his succinct and reckless self.
"Not much options there," said Zach under his breath as he continued his reading. "Forecast said it'll be hot today. Think we can trust it?" he said aloud.
"What's the forecast for yesterday?" asked Nick.
Zach checked. "The same."
"Then," said Mike. "No. Did you SEE the weather last night? I mean...what was THAT?"
"It's called rain," said Nick, and received a glare for his answer.
"I KNOW it's rain, Nick," said Mike, rolling his eyes.
"At least we aren't the only ones stuck with the odd weather," said Zach. "Though, of course that's not exactly reassuring...just think about all the things that'd happened already...terrorists, minor wars, earth quakes, tsunami...."
"Yeah," agreed Mike. "What's with that?"
"...droughts, floods, though in different areas, of course," continued Zach. "wild fires, at least no reported volcano eruptions...yet..."
"Okay," said Mike, "Now you're just making me depressed."
"Let's talk about something happy!" said Nick brightly, at a level of brightness that was over Mike's sunglass-ed tolerance. He got another glare.
"Oh...oh!" said Mike, who's memory was been brought on by the previous morbid thoughts. "Zach, have you ever heard of this theory about the end of the world?"
"Which one?" said Zach dryly, without attempting to be funny.
"Ha. Ha." said Mike. "Right. Any of the main ones. I mean according to the terms, the world going crazy means the world's going to end soon."
"Mike," said Zach skeptically. "The world's been going crazy for years."
"It's bound to happen soon," argued Mike.
"It hasn't happened yet," countered Zach.
"You guys are so cheerful," said Nick, who had spent enough time now to catch along some of the sarcasm.
"He started it," said Mike, pointing to Zach.
"Go me," said Zach, more dryly still.
And that was how the traits of insanity of the world in general was first brought up. In less than three days it became a sort of a joke in which they picked out and made a note of everything strange around them:
The distance of the planets this year with regards to earth, which everyone in the field of astronomy had been goggling over. A perfectly healthy tree which had fallen over for no particular reason and smashed a car to smithereens. Sudden formation of a small tornado in a decidedly not-tornado-land area. Things exploding. Things falling. Things showing up in strange places for on strange reasons and driving everyone around them bonkers. And also the fact that there were people being nice to Mike which, he claimed, was both strange AND scary, which Nick had argued against. Zach, after thoughtfully watching them argue for a moment, inquired whether or not he should add their name to the list of strange things.
"Sure," said Mike.
Thus, their names were added to the list, right below the 456,751,342th cat who had fallen out of a tree that week and the discovery of live cockroaches in a tomb that had been supposedly sealed from the outside world for the past few centuries.
__________________________________________
End of September's chapter...we'll see how goes from here.
Saturday, September 10, 2005
September--"Good morning"
"Good morning," said Nick from the doorway.
"Morning," replied Zach, looking up again, and stared. "Oh. My."
Nick, now moustache-less, blushed.
"Well," said Zach, trying to recover his wits. "At least we now for sure that you're the same age as us and not an assassin." He couldn't stop staring though.
"Hey, be nice, Zach," said Mike with a somewhat evil grin. "Monsieur Lucille looks very pretty."
Nick muttered something in French that Zach didn't understand and Mike pretended he didn't understand, but translation wasn't required. "I did what I said I would do," he said stiffly after a moment of pause.
"Good for you," said Mike, after another moment of pause.
"Congrats," said Zach, after still another pause.
All the pauses could be added up, condensed, and summed into one word: awkward. Which was usually the case when you betted your friend to do something, didn't think they would do it, but they ended up doing it. It produced something between an odd sense of jubilation and a nagging sense of guilt.
"Well ANYWAY," said Mike, slouching in his chair.
Zach glanced at him. "Tired? Bored?" he suggested, paused. "Both?"
"Stop that!" snapped Mike, who was developing an increasing awareness to when his friend started to psychoanalyze him. "You knew I was going to say 'both'."
Zach tried for a blank expression. Mike looked even grouchier.
"Aww, we're just going to have to force Mikey to take a nap then, won't we?" said Nick, who had recovered in the mean time and was at his teeth-grinding cheeriest. He ruffled Mike's hair.
Zach stared at the two of them for a moment before scooting away as far as he could, given the dimensions of the dorm room (i.e. ES & EC--Extra Small & Extra Cramped).
____________________________________________
Here's my result for the quiz:
Take the quiz: "How Random Are You?"
You are Normal :(
I'm sorry (pats you on the back) but you are normal ;.; No more magical pork for you I guess....
Normality's overrated? =p
"Morning," replied Zach, looking up again, and stared. "Oh. My."
Nick, now moustache-less, blushed.
"Well," said Zach, trying to recover his wits. "At least we now for sure that you're the same age as us and not an assassin." He couldn't stop staring though.
"Hey, be nice, Zach," said Mike with a somewhat evil grin. "Monsieur Lucille looks very pretty."
Nick muttered something in French that Zach didn't understand and Mike pretended he didn't understand, but translation wasn't required. "I did what I said I would do," he said stiffly after a moment of pause.
"Good for you," said Mike, after another moment of pause.
"Congrats," said Zach, after still another pause.
All the pauses could be added up, condensed, and summed into one word: awkward. Which was usually the case when you betted your friend to do something, didn't think they would do it, but they ended up doing it. It produced something between an odd sense of jubilation and a nagging sense of guilt.
"Well ANYWAY," said Mike, slouching in his chair.
Zach glanced at him. "Tired? Bored?" he suggested, paused. "Both?"
"Stop that!" snapped Mike, who was developing an increasing awareness to when his friend started to psychoanalyze him. "You knew I was going to say 'both'."
Zach tried for a blank expression. Mike looked even grouchier.
"Aww, we're just going to have to force Mikey to take a nap then, won't we?" said Nick, who had recovered in the mean time and was at his teeth-grinding cheeriest. He ruffled Mike's hair.
Zach stared at the two of them for a moment before scooting away as far as he could, given the dimensions of the dorm room (i.e. ES & EC--Extra Small & Extra Cramped).
____________________________________________
Here's my result for the quiz:
Take the quiz: "How Random Are You?"
You are Normal :(
I'm sorry (pats you on the back) but you are normal ;.; No more magical pork for you I guess....
Normality's overrated? =p
BWAHAHAHAHA
Take the quiz: "How Random Are You?"
My results:
Yer not Random! Yer Crazy!
The fact that you aren't in a Mental Institution is a threat to society... COOL! I LIKE YOU!
My results:
Yer not Random! Yer Crazy!
The fact that you aren't in a Mental Institution is a threat to society... COOL! I LIKE YOU!
Friday, September 09, 2005
September- "Hey Zach"
"Hey Zach, not going home this weekend?" asked Mike as he poked his head into Zach's room next morning.
"If I were I wouldn't be sitting here right now," Zach pointed out dryly, looking up from his laptop. When he was going to leave for the weekend he always left early-and that was early by HIS definition. "Roommate's gone though."
"Okay, cool," said Mike, and promptly took advantages of the absence of the roommate, namely by hogging up the empty space. "What're you eating?"
"Huh? Oh yogurt," said Zach, looking up from the screen the second time. "Would you like some?" he offered.
Mike eyed it suspiciously. "What kind is it?"
"Strawberry, with real strawberries," said Zach as Mike accepted the yogurt and tried to dump some into his mouth. "It's also sugar-free." He added as a clump of yogurt finally detached itself.
Mike gagged and nearly choked. "Sugar-free!" He swallowed with an expression of disgust before glaring at the 'all-natural' labeled yogurt, then down at his friend. "You actually EAT this stuff?" he asked incredulously.
Zach lifted an amused eyebrow. "What else do you propose I do with it?"
"Throw it in the trash?" suggested Mike, handing the yogurt back as if the plastic cup might suddenly develop fangs, turn rabid, and bite him.
"That would be a waste of food," said Zach primly, accepting the yogurt back. "You knew I eat healthy, right?"
"Yeah but...sugar-free?!" He stared at Zach as if his friend had been eating poison (which, in Mike's opinion, Zach had) and had somehow miraculously survived. "You WEIRDO!"
"Very good, Sherlock Holmes," said Zach, glancing back at the screen again. "Did you hear the chem building's exploded last night?"
"It did?" said Mike. "Oh awesome."
"Not the entire building," said Zach hastily, "just an accident in one of the labs."
"Oh," said Mike, sounding disappointed. He tried to summon an expression of appropriate sympathy when Zach just looked at him and failed impressively.
This was one of those moments which Nick and Zach usually used to prove the existence of Mike's violent tendencies or, as Mike called them, the usual American guy thing...which he was allowed to get away with since Zach was raised in the UK and Nick in France.
"Try to be more subtle about your sadistic tendencies, will you?" murmured Zach.
"Subtle?" Mike lifted both of his eyebrows. "Me?"
"Right," muttered Zach, "forgot who I was talking to."
_________________________
And I'm happy to report no explosions so far in Kate and Christine's cooking class. ;-)
Nick's moustache is going to have to go. I ABSOLUTELY can't draw it.
"If I were I wouldn't be sitting here right now," Zach pointed out dryly, looking up from his laptop. When he was going to leave for the weekend he always left early-and that was early by HIS definition. "Roommate's gone though."
"Okay, cool," said Mike, and promptly took advantages of the absence of the roommate, namely by hogging up the empty space. "What're you eating?"
"Huh? Oh yogurt," said Zach, looking up from the screen the second time. "Would you like some?" he offered.
Mike eyed it suspiciously. "What kind is it?"
"Strawberry, with real strawberries," said Zach as Mike accepted the yogurt and tried to dump some into his mouth. "It's also sugar-free." He added as a clump of yogurt finally detached itself.
Mike gagged and nearly choked. "Sugar-free!" He swallowed with an expression of disgust before glaring at the 'all-natural' labeled yogurt, then down at his friend. "You actually EAT this stuff?" he asked incredulously.
Zach lifted an amused eyebrow. "What else do you propose I do with it?"
"Throw it in the trash?" suggested Mike, handing the yogurt back as if the plastic cup might suddenly develop fangs, turn rabid, and bite him.
"That would be a waste of food," said Zach primly, accepting the yogurt back. "You knew I eat healthy, right?"
"Yeah but...sugar-free?!" He stared at Zach as if his friend had been eating poison (which, in Mike's opinion, Zach had) and had somehow miraculously survived. "You WEIRDO!"
"Very good, Sherlock Holmes," said Zach, glancing back at the screen again. "Did you hear the chem building's exploded last night?"
"It did?" said Mike. "Oh awesome."
"Not the entire building," said Zach hastily, "just an accident in one of the labs."
"Oh," said Mike, sounding disappointed. He tried to summon an expression of appropriate sympathy when Zach just looked at him and failed impressively.
This was one of those moments which Nick and Zach usually used to prove the existence of Mike's violent tendencies or, as Mike called them, the usual American guy thing...which he was allowed to get away with since Zach was raised in the UK and Nick in France.
"Try to be more subtle about your sadistic tendencies, will you?" murmured Zach.
"Subtle?" Mike lifted both of his eyebrows. "Me?"
"Right," muttered Zach, "forgot who I was talking to."
_________________________
And I'm happy to report no explosions so far in Kate and Christine's cooking class. ;-)
Nick's moustache is going to have to go. I ABSOLUTELY can't draw it.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
September-- Mike
Mike lugged his backpack into his room and took out the laptop. There was nothing good on television so he had decided to try his luck in cyberspace instead. He went and checked his email first and found one from Zach from that morning, which read as follows:
Hey Mikey, (Mike growled when he saw this, but kept reading)
Here's a link to a database of old essays. I know reading isn't exactly your favorite hobby, but read the one called "The Necessity of Atheism" anyway. Nice follow-up on our previous discussion. Nick asked me to send you this link to a joke-site he found, which I'm going to include against my better judgement. Have fun.
-Zach
There was another short email from Nick:
I've asked Zach to send you this link but don't know if he did or not. If not, here it is.
Nicolas
A grudging smile spread itself across his face. Someone ought to consider listing "friend" as a hobby, or even better: a full time occupation. It took enough time...and people get paid too. Sort of. Well, not the usual sorts of payment, anyhow.
He twitched when he heard something rattle against the window. It was rain.
Nutty weather, he thought, since it seldom rained in September in California.
"This weather's crazy!" exclaimed Zach as heavy drops suddenly started pelting them. "There, this way!"
"I take it it doesn't normally rain here in September?" panted Nick as he followed Zach under the eaves of a nearby building.
"No it doesn't," replied Zach. They stood and watched the rain for a few minutes.
I wonder if this is part of global warming, thought Nick. Weird weather.
The weather's getting crazier every year, thought Zach. Then again, the world seems to be getting crazier every year, so that doesn't seem to be much of standard.
The sudden rain stopped as quickly as it came. In less than five minutes the sky turned perfectly clear and the Milky Way would've been visible to them if they weren't surrounded by electric lights.
What promised to be a dark and stormy night changed into a sky full of (if unseen) stars.
"Huh," said Zach, as they set their way home again. Crazier and crazier, he thought.
"Is it usually like that here?" asked Nick, who was wondering if he should consider bringing an umbrella with him at all times.
"No," answered Zach, staring up into the sky with some bemusement. He nearly walked into a pole and realized that he had much better kept his eyes on were he was going.
The dark and stormy night canceled its appointment and slouched away to another place, where there was no appointment, but had higher priorities anyway. Perfectly dark and stormy nights were getting quite rare, so their presence were much sought after by villains everywhere, a few humans who just enjoyed getting bashed around in the element for the hell of it, and some Others that no one knew about for reasons that would be completely irrational if explained.
Asylums, after all, were hardly places to be rational in.
Hey Mikey, (Mike growled when he saw this, but kept reading)
Here's a link to a database of old essays. I know reading isn't exactly your favorite hobby, but read the one called "The Necessity of Atheism" anyway. Nice follow-up on our previous discussion. Nick asked me to send you this link to a joke-site he found, which I'm going to include against my better judgement. Have fun.
-Zach
There was another short email from Nick:
I've asked Zach to send you this link but don't know if he did or not. If not, here it is.
Nicolas
A grudging smile spread itself across his face. Someone ought to consider listing "friend" as a hobby, or even better: a full time occupation. It took enough time...and people get paid too. Sort of. Well, not the usual sorts of payment, anyhow.
He twitched when he heard something rattle against the window. It was rain.
Nutty weather, he thought, since it seldom rained in September in California.
"This weather's crazy!" exclaimed Zach as heavy drops suddenly started pelting them. "There, this way!"
"I take it it doesn't normally rain here in September?" panted Nick as he followed Zach under the eaves of a nearby building.
"No it doesn't," replied Zach. They stood and watched the rain for a few minutes.
I wonder if this is part of global warming, thought Nick. Weird weather.
The weather's getting crazier every year, thought Zach. Then again, the world seems to be getting crazier every year, so that doesn't seem to be much of standard.
The sudden rain stopped as quickly as it came. In less than five minutes the sky turned perfectly clear and the Milky Way would've been visible to them if they weren't surrounded by electric lights.
What promised to be a dark and stormy night changed into a sky full of (if unseen) stars.
"Huh," said Zach, as they set their way home again. Crazier and crazier, he thought.
"Is it usually like that here?" asked Nick, who was wondering if he should consider bringing an umbrella with him at all times.
"No," answered Zach, staring up into the sky with some bemusement. He nearly walked into a pole and realized that he had much better kept his eyes on were he was going.
The dark and stormy night canceled its appointment and slouched away to another place, where there was no appointment, but had higher priorities anyway. Perfectly dark and stormy nights were getting quite rare, so their presence were much sought after by villains everywhere, a few humans who just enjoyed getting bashed around in the element for the hell of it, and some Others that no one knew about for reasons that would be completely irrational if explained.
Asylums, after all, were hardly places to be rational in.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
September-- In return
In return, both Nick and Zach grew to accept Mike's sarcasm and black humor, though both still worried when their friend occasionally relapsed into depression. On these occasions Nick would do whatever he could to try to cheer Mike, sometimes with backfiring consequences since optimism and depression were not very compatible together, and had a tendency to combust when mixed. Zach did what he could, knowing himself to be far too logical and therefore not overly bright at comforting people. He always backed off when he sensed that his logic was going to provoke more temper than help. And Mike, having gotten used to handling his moods alone, at first tried to wander away by himself when he felt his temper slipping and discovered, much to his dismay, that his friends wouldn't let him. After a particularly exasperating session of "No-We're-Not-Leaving-You-Alone-Mike" Mike reflected, rather philosophically for him, that he should probably start getting himself used to it.
He did. It just took a while, that's all.
It took not very long before the three where habitually dropping in upon each other, and a even shorter amount of time passed before the Nick and Zach decided to drop in on Mike over the weekends. Mike's great aunt was absolutely THRILLED to be meeting her Mikey-boy's friends...and consequently was fearfully (term used loosely) disappointed the first time around when she discovered she already had an appointment at the time of their arrival and wouldn't see them till the next time.
Needless to say, Mike was very, very, VERY much relieved. He lead his two friends down the boulevards feeling almost optimistic, and his optimism experienced an pleasant surge when he opened the door and discovered the house to be empty.
"Just leave your stuff here," he called over his shoulder, dumping his backpack on the living room couch and sauntering into the kitchen. "What'd you guys want to eat?"
"Something that's edible and doesn't move by itself," said Zach, joining him in the kitchen. As it was Friday night and well-past dinnertime, neither boy was feeling particularly picky. "What time's it?"
"Seven, almost eight," answered Nick, who was staring the refrigerator magnets as if one fascinated. Mike's great aunt owned quite a collection of them. The front of her fridge would by the envy of any museum collector.
"Yeah, those are my great aunt's," said Mike, shoving Nick aside so he could look in the fridge. "There's a pretty big bowl of clam chowder left and plenty of bread. We can heat the chowder and make a quick salad."
"Sound's good," said Zach, glancing at Nick, who nodded.
They got down to work. Mike knew how to cook because his father almost never came home for lunch or dinner, and there was only so long before a person gets tired of fast food. Zach knew how to cook because his mother refused to let him go away to college without learning how. Nick jumped in, honestly eager to help, but after Mike watched him wielding the knife to hew the first chunk of bread, he was hauled out into the dining room and ordered to set the table.
Mike returned to the kitchen to find Zach looking at him with considerable amusement. "What?"
"A bit territorial, aren't we?" remarked Zach with a grin, and went back to slicing the tomato.
"How hard is it to cut bread?" demanded Mike, bluntly. He set about cutting the rest of the loaf.
"I know how to cut bread!" Nick protested indignantly, returning for the utensils and plates.
"You can take the salad over when you're done with the table," interjected Zach, before Mike could respond.
"Uh, a moment," said Nick. "Where're the spoons?"
Mike sighed and rattled the cupboards as he got out all the necessary kitchenware, and some besides, as a show of annoyance. Nick took what he needed back to the dining room with raised eyebrows.
"You're the only one who knows where all the stuff are, around here," pointed out Zach as he put all the bread on a plate.
"Yeah I know," grumbled Mike, "It's just...."
"Don't worry," said Zach, lightly. "It's Friday night, you're excused."
"Thanks," said Mike sarcastically as Zach disappeared into the dining room with the bread. He checked the chowder.
"Food's ready!" He yelled, and started ladling the stuff into the bowls. Nick and Zach came and carried the bowls back. Mike checked to see if the stoves were all turned off and then got soda and a bottle of water. Zach came and helped carry some napkins.
When Mike went into the dining room Nick was already seated but Zach was still wandering around the room. He noticed that he needed something for the salad and went to get that, and when he came back, Zach was still hovering about.
Mike's patience, never long in suffering, snapped. "Why aren't you sitting down?"
"Because you aren't," Zach answered, looking at the salad-tosser and wondering if it could be considered a lethal weapon. If Mike was holding it-probably. "I'm just seeing if you need any help...your wandering around getting things is making me feel guilty."
"Well sit down," returned Mike. "Because YOUR wandering around is make ME feel guilty!"
Zach made a noncommittal noise and remained where he was, out of the range of the salad-tosser. With an exasperated sigh, Mike slammed down the utensil, grabbed Zach by the shoulders, spun him around, and pushed him into the nearest dining room chair.
"Sit!" He told him curtly.
Zach stared up at him, wide-eyed, and grinned. "Woof!" he said.
Mike stared then grinned in return. "Good dog, stay!"
"That works too," murmured Zachary, exchanging an amused smile with Nick. Against all else, this was a good day.
"Are you guys laughing at me?" asked Mike suspiciously.
"Not yet," answered Zach, who was beginning to feel an inclination to, as it generally went in these cases.
"Why would we laugh at you?" asked Nick with an innocence that did not belong on his face, and looked it. He tried to maintain a straight face. Tried, being the operative word.
"Nick," Mike said with dignified sarcasm, though not without some bit of exasperated amusement. "Sometimes you're about as subtle as an elephant in a parlor."
"I know," responded Nick, accepting the statement as if it was the highest of compliments. "That's why I'm such a great guy, right? Right?"
Zach nearly choked and hastily took a gulp of water.
Mike rolled his eyes. "Riiiiiight."
Dinner ended with them cleaning up or, in other words, dumping all the dishes into the sink. Zach started washing them because of his over active sense of conscience and Mike, after a moment of contemplation, helped dry and put them away since he was the only one who knew where everything goes. While this was happening he also did his uttermost to keep Nick out of the kitchen.
"Go watch TV," suggested an exasperated Mike. "It's in the living room and the remote's somewhere on the couch."
"We're almost done," Zach added in helpfully.
"Where's the remote?" asked Nick from the living room, a moment later.
"Couch!" answered Mike from the kitchen.
"I can't find it!" said Nick. "It's too dark!"
Mike grumbled a bit before answering. "There's a floor lamp. Use it. And don't touch the switch on the wall."
"Okay," said Nick. In another moment the kitchen lights went off.
"Buenas noches," said Zach in the darkness. "What happened?"
"Didn't I tell you not to touch the switch?!" growled Mike, stomping out of kitchen and into living room. "What did I tell you!?"
The kitchen light went back on.
"Let there be light!" said Zach.
"But I-" began Nick, then paused, possibly making note of Mike's expression in the light of the now-turned-on floor lamp. "Geez, fine." He muttered. "This is the remote control, right?"
From the kitchen Zach heard a very pronounced "AUGH!" followed by a muttered "For cryin' out loud...!" coming, presumably, from Mike. Shortly thereafter the television was turned on, despite of the many detours which occurred along the way. The TV as the witness.
"What do you want to watch?" Mike asked Zach as he entered the living room.
"I don't know any programs," admitted Zach, a little shame-faced. "I don't usually watch the TV...aside from occasional evening news."
"Go figure," muttered Mike, browsing what was on the TV. "Boring. Boring. Horrible. Boring. Horribly boring." He pronounced as he glanced at the content of each channel. "Should we try news? Nah. To depressing. Football. Ugh."
"You don't like American football either?" said Zach. "Me too."
"Me three!" added Nick.
"Go us," was Mike's sardonic comment as he returned to browsing. "Boring. Boring. Freaks. Boring. Weird guy with a moustache."
"What do you have against moustaches?" asked Nick, who sported a small one on his upper lip.
"They look weird," answered Mike without ever taking his eyes off of the TV screen.
"I do not look weird!" exclaimed Nick. "Do I?" He asked Zach.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" asked Zach, who had a habit of hitting the unpleasant truth bluntly and therefore, out of courtesy of others, always warned people ahead of time when the answers might be otherwise than what was desired.
"You do too look weird," said Mike, who had taken his eyes off of the TV and was now regarding Nick with a wicked expression on his face. "A bit like a demented assassin."
"Hey!" said Nick indignantly. "DEMENTED?!"
"Or Hitler gone Mexican," suggested Zach.
"Or gone French," said Mike, contemplating Nick's face.
"Or French," agreed Zach, contemplating his friend's face in turn.
"Well FINE," huffed Nick, "if it bothers you that much I'll just shave it off the next time!"
"Would you do that, really?" asked Mike, giving Nick a sidelong glance.
"What, you do not believe me?" Inquired Nick, who, by now, seemed to have collected enough indignation to fill several swimming pools. Mike was enjoying himself immensely.
"I'll hold you up on it," offered Zach, straight-faced.
"You do that," Nick told him.
"When are you leaving?" Mike asked Zach, catching him checking the time.
"About now, I think," said Zach slowly. "I should get back by ten."
"Aw, stay a bit longer," pleaded Mike, who did not want to spend the rest of the night watching TV by himself, though that was what he frequently did. Or perhaps he didn't want it because it was what he frequently did. "What, did your parents set you a curfew or something?"
Zach mumbled something inaudible.
"I guess I'll go too, then," said Nick.
"Why the hell are you leaving too?" asked Mike, almost politely. Almost.
"Because he might not be able to find the way back by himself," teased Zach. Nicolas was notorious for his sense of direction...at least, among the three of them.
"I can TOO find my way back!" protested Nick, sounding a little sulky. "You just go out the door, turn right, reach the end of the block and turn left!"
"Nick, you turn right at the end of the block if you're planning to go to the campus," corrected Zach. He exchanged a look of harried amusement with Mike. "See, a tour guide's necessary."
Mike snorted. "Of course. Well, have fun then."
"We will," said Nick.
"Don't worry, we won't get lost," said Zach, grinning, as they stepped out the door. "At least, physically we won't."
_______________________________
nothing seems to establish character better than situation and dialogue.er.
He did. It just took a while, that's all.
It took not very long before the three where habitually dropping in upon each other, and a even shorter amount of time passed before the Nick and Zach decided to drop in on Mike over the weekends. Mike's great aunt was absolutely THRILLED to be meeting her Mikey-boy's friends...and consequently was fearfully (term used loosely) disappointed the first time around when she discovered she already had an appointment at the time of their arrival and wouldn't see them till the next time.
Needless to say, Mike was very, very, VERY much relieved. He lead his two friends down the boulevards feeling almost optimistic, and his optimism experienced an pleasant surge when he opened the door and discovered the house to be empty.
"Just leave your stuff here," he called over his shoulder, dumping his backpack on the living room couch and sauntering into the kitchen. "What'd you guys want to eat?"
"Something that's edible and doesn't move by itself," said Zach, joining him in the kitchen. As it was Friday night and well-past dinnertime, neither boy was feeling particularly picky. "What time's it?"
"Seven, almost eight," answered Nick, who was staring the refrigerator magnets as if one fascinated. Mike's great aunt owned quite a collection of them. The front of her fridge would by the envy of any museum collector.
"Yeah, those are my great aunt's," said Mike, shoving Nick aside so he could look in the fridge. "There's a pretty big bowl of clam chowder left and plenty of bread. We can heat the chowder and make a quick salad."
"Sound's good," said Zach, glancing at Nick, who nodded.
They got down to work. Mike knew how to cook because his father almost never came home for lunch or dinner, and there was only so long before a person gets tired of fast food. Zach knew how to cook because his mother refused to let him go away to college without learning how. Nick jumped in, honestly eager to help, but after Mike watched him wielding the knife to hew the first chunk of bread, he was hauled out into the dining room and ordered to set the table.
Mike returned to the kitchen to find Zach looking at him with considerable amusement. "What?"
"A bit territorial, aren't we?" remarked Zach with a grin, and went back to slicing the tomato.
"How hard is it to cut bread?" demanded Mike, bluntly. He set about cutting the rest of the loaf.
"I know how to cut bread!" Nick protested indignantly, returning for the utensils and plates.
"You can take the salad over when you're done with the table," interjected Zach, before Mike could respond.
"Uh, a moment," said Nick. "Where're the spoons?"
Mike sighed and rattled the cupboards as he got out all the necessary kitchenware, and some besides, as a show of annoyance. Nick took what he needed back to the dining room with raised eyebrows.
"You're the only one who knows where all the stuff are, around here," pointed out Zach as he put all the bread on a plate.
"Yeah I know," grumbled Mike, "It's just...."
"Don't worry," said Zach, lightly. "It's Friday night, you're excused."
"Thanks," said Mike sarcastically as Zach disappeared into the dining room with the bread. He checked the chowder.
"Food's ready!" He yelled, and started ladling the stuff into the bowls. Nick and Zach came and carried the bowls back. Mike checked to see if the stoves were all turned off and then got soda and a bottle of water. Zach came and helped carry some napkins.
When Mike went into the dining room Nick was already seated but Zach was still wandering around the room. He noticed that he needed something for the salad and went to get that, and when he came back, Zach was still hovering about.
Mike's patience, never long in suffering, snapped. "Why aren't you sitting down?"
"Because you aren't," Zach answered, looking at the salad-tosser and wondering if it could be considered a lethal weapon. If Mike was holding it-probably. "I'm just seeing if you need any help...your wandering around getting things is making me feel guilty."
"Well sit down," returned Mike. "Because YOUR wandering around is make ME feel guilty!"
Zach made a noncommittal noise and remained where he was, out of the range of the salad-tosser. With an exasperated sigh, Mike slammed down the utensil, grabbed Zach by the shoulders, spun him around, and pushed him into the nearest dining room chair.
"Sit!" He told him curtly.
Zach stared up at him, wide-eyed, and grinned. "Woof!" he said.
Mike stared then grinned in return. "Good dog, stay!"
"That works too," murmured Zachary, exchanging an amused smile with Nick. Against all else, this was a good day.
"Are you guys laughing at me?" asked Mike suspiciously.
"Not yet," answered Zach, who was beginning to feel an inclination to, as it generally went in these cases.
"Why would we laugh at you?" asked Nick with an innocence that did not belong on his face, and looked it. He tried to maintain a straight face. Tried, being the operative word.
"Nick," Mike said with dignified sarcasm, though not without some bit of exasperated amusement. "Sometimes you're about as subtle as an elephant in a parlor."
"I know," responded Nick, accepting the statement as if it was the highest of compliments. "That's why I'm such a great guy, right? Right?"
Zach nearly choked and hastily took a gulp of water.
Mike rolled his eyes. "Riiiiiight."
Dinner ended with them cleaning up or, in other words, dumping all the dishes into the sink. Zach started washing them because of his over active sense of conscience and Mike, after a moment of contemplation, helped dry and put them away since he was the only one who knew where everything goes. While this was happening he also did his uttermost to keep Nick out of the kitchen.
"Go watch TV," suggested an exasperated Mike. "It's in the living room and the remote's somewhere on the couch."
"We're almost done," Zach added in helpfully.
"Where's the remote?" asked Nick from the living room, a moment later.
"Couch!" answered Mike from the kitchen.
"I can't find it!" said Nick. "It's too dark!"
Mike grumbled a bit before answering. "There's a floor lamp. Use it. And don't touch the switch on the wall."
"Okay," said Nick. In another moment the kitchen lights went off.
"Buenas noches," said Zach in the darkness. "What happened?"
"Didn't I tell you not to touch the switch?!" growled Mike, stomping out of kitchen and into living room. "What did I tell you!?"
The kitchen light went back on.
"Let there be light!" said Zach.
"But I-" began Nick, then paused, possibly making note of Mike's expression in the light of the now-turned-on floor lamp. "Geez, fine." He muttered. "This is the remote control, right?"
From the kitchen Zach heard a very pronounced "AUGH!" followed by a muttered "For cryin' out loud...!" coming, presumably, from Mike. Shortly thereafter the television was turned on, despite of the many detours which occurred along the way. The TV as the witness.
"What do you want to watch?" Mike asked Zach as he entered the living room.
"I don't know any programs," admitted Zach, a little shame-faced. "I don't usually watch the TV...aside from occasional evening news."
"Go figure," muttered Mike, browsing what was on the TV. "Boring. Boring. Horrible. Boring. Horribly boring." He pronounced as he glanced at the content of each channel. "Should we try news? Nah. To depressing. Football. Ugh."
"You don't like American football either?" said Zach. "Me too."
"Me three!" added Nick.
"Go us," was Mike's sardonic comment as he returned to browsing. "Boring. Boring. Freaks. Boring. Weird guy with a moustache."
"What do you have against moustaches?" asked Nick, who sported a small one on his upper lip.
"They look weird," answered Mike without ever taking his eyes off of the TV screen.
"I do not look weird!" exclaimed Nick. "Do I?" He asked Zach.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" asked Zach, who had a habit of hitting the unpleasant truth bluntly and therefore, out of courtesy of others, always warned people ahead of time when the answers might be otherwise than what was desired.
"You do too look weird," said Mike, who had taken his eyes off of the TV and was now regarding Nick with a wicked expression on his face. "A bit like a demented assassin."
"Hey!" said Nick indignantly. "DEMENTED?!"
"Or Hitler gone Mexican," suggested Zach.
"Or gone French," said Mike, contemplating Nick's face.
"Or French," agreed Zach, contemplating his friend's face in turn.
"Well FINE," huffed Nick, "if it bothers you that much I'll just shave it off the next time!"
"Would you do that, really?" asked Mike, giving Nick a sidelong glance.
"What, you do not believe me?" Inquired Nick, who, by now, seemed to have collected enough indignation to fill several swimming pools. Mike was enjoying himself immensely.
"I'll hold you up on it," offered Zach, straight-faced.
"You do that," Nick told him.
"When are you leaving?" Mike asked Zach, catching him checking the time.
"About now, I think," said Zach slowly. "I should get back by ten."
"Aw, stay a bit longer," pleaded Mike, who did not want to spend the rest of the night watching TV by himself, though that was what he frequently did. Or perhaps he didn't want it because it was what he frequently did. "What, did your parents set you a curfew or something?"
Zach mumbled something inaudible.
"I guess I'll go too, then," said Nick.
"Why the hell are you leaving too?" asked Mike, almost politely. Almost.
"Because he might not be able to find the way back by himself," teased Zach. Nicolas was notorious for his sense of direction...at least, among the three of them.
"I can TOO find my way back!" protested Nick, sounding a little sulky. "You just go out the door, turn right, reach the end of the block and turn left!"
"Nick, you turn right at the end of the block if you're planning to go to the campus," corrected Zach. He exchanged a look of harried amusement with Mike. "See, a tour guide's necessary."
Mike snorted. "Of course. Well, have fun then."
"We will," said Nick.
"Don't worry, we won't get lost," said Zach, grinning, as they stepped out the door. "At least, physically we won't."
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nothing seems to establish character better than situation and dialogue.er.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Yearbook
I'm working on a mini-yearbook project for LUNATICS...and I'm bringing it up because well, being yearbook, I can't include anything if I don't have pictures. Anyway, it's heaps of fun. Here's a screenshot:
Submit your pictures! *grin* Better yet, Lusine, if you don't mind doing me a favor, could you collect pictures for me?
Submit your pictures! *grin* Better yet, Lusine, if you don't mind doing me a favor, could you collect pictures for me?
September- Another point
Another point was Zach's quietness made him a somewhat awkward person to talk to on the phone and so when Mike developed the habit of ranting to Zach on the phone, after discovering that he now had a friend who could understand his rants, he was slightly put off by the silence at the other end of the line.
Preoccupied with trying to make sense to both himself and his audience, it would usually take Mike a few minutes to realize that the other end of the line was silent for longer than usual. He would then consider the topic of his current impromptu performance and conclude that one of three things must've happened: that Zach had died from boredom, that his listener had gotten completely lost trying to follow his train of thought and was now hopeless banging around in the metaphorical darkness, or that his friend had, on the remotest possibility, been kidnapped by aliens. Neither of the possibilities seemed inviting.
"Zach?"
"Hmm?" would come the quiet answer.
"Just checking if you're still there, 'cause you're not saying anything." Mike would then explain, feeling awkward.
"Oh I'm here," Zach would answer, sounding amused, and explain in return. "I just don't say anything when I'm thinking. I'm always here unless I tell you I won't be."
Another silence would drift in, after which Mike would ask, again. "Still there?"
"Yep," Zach would cheerfully confirm. "Both physically and mentally."
It took Mike few more rants before he finally got used to it.
And about a week had passed when Mike brought up the issue of Nick's clothing.
"Why're you always dressed like that?" demanded Mike, upon the occasion.
"What's wrong with the way I dress?" asked Nick, looking down at his snowy shirt and dark slacks, then up at Mike with evident bewilderment.
Zach looked like he might laugh soon, but he maintained a respectful silence.
Sighing with exasperation, Mike eyed Nick's outfit with some consternation. "It's just so...so... ... ..." He searched for an appropriate word and had a bit of trouble finding one.
"Breath-taking?" suggest Zach with an impish grin, promptly stepping out of the range when Mike made a threatening gesture at him.
"Don't you own anything that's more...normal?" Asked Mike. "Never mind," he added, when Nick gave him a puzzled look.
"In case if you haven't noticed, Mike," said Zach, sounding as if he was straining something to keep his laughter in check. "Normality isn't a trait that people'd normally associate with us, so why should it be associated with our belongings?"
"Hey I dress normal!" protest Mike.
Zach studied his friend's baggy clothes in their customary shades of gray, black, and blue. "No comment."
"What's that's suppose to mean?" demanded Mike.
"What do you think it means?" returned Zach, raising an eyebrow.
Mike paused. "Well, you're weird too!"
"Beyond saving," agreed Zach, happily.
"Point!" sighed Mike, because there was no getting around that point.
"Point?" repeated Nick, who had been trying to follow the exchange of the left-and-backward-side of the English language. He raised his arm and pointed in a random direction.
"Never mind," Mike sighed again, rubbing his face with his hands. Some times talking could be so...infuriatingly exhausting. Mentally. "Just...get some other clothes, will ya?"
_____________________________
Okay I've edited the PE thing (in my files) though...
do we really need Mike with karate? *wince* Oh well.
He can do threatening things with any tools, and now he can do threatening things with just himself. Let's hope Nick's better student at it, shall we? =p
Preoccupied with trying to make sense to both himself and his audience, it would usually take Mike a few minutes to realize that the other end of the line was silent for longer than usual. He would then consider the topic of his current impromptu performance and conclude that one of three things must've happened: that Zach had died from boredom, that his listener had gotten completely lost trying to follow his train of thought and was now hopeless banging around in the metaphorical darkness, or that his friend had, on the remotest possibility, been kidnapped by aliens. Neither of the possibilities seemed inviting.
"Zach?"
"Hmm?" would come the quiet answer.
"Just checking if you're still there, 'cause you're not saying anything." Mike would then explain, feeling awkward.
"Oh I'm here," Zach would answer, sounding amused, and explain in return. "I just don't say anything when I'm thinking. I'm always here unless I tell you I won't be."
Another silence would drift in, after which Mike would ask, again. "Still there?"
"Yep," Zach would cheerfully confirm. "Both physically and mentally."
It took Mike few more rants before he finally got used to it.
And about a week had passed when Mike brought up the issue of Nick's clothing.
"Why're you always dressed like that?" demanded Mike, upon the occasion.
"What's wrong with the way I dress?" asked Nick, looking down at his snowy shirt and dark slacks, then up at Mike with evident bewilderment.
Zach looked like he might laugh soon, but he maintained a respectful silence.
Sighing with exasperation, Mike eyed Nick's outfit with some consternation. "It's just so...so... ... ..." He searched for an appropriate word and had a bit of trouble finding one.
"Breath-taking?" suggest Zach with an impish grin, promptly stepping out of the range when Mike made a threatening gesture at him.
"Don't you own anything that's more...normal?" Asked Mike. "Never mind," he added, when Nick gave him a puzzled look.
"In case if you haven't noticed, Mike," said Zach, sounding as if he was straining something to keep his laughter in check. "Normality isn't a trait that people'd normally associate with us, so why should it be associated with our belongings?"
"Hey I dress normal!" protest Mike.
Zach studied his friend's baggy clothes in their customary shades of gray, black, and blue. "No comment."
"What's that's suppose to mean?" demanded Mike.
"What do you think it means?" returned Zach, raising an eyebrow.
Mike paused. "Well, you're weird too!"
"Beyond saving," agreed Zach, happily.
"Point!" sighed Mike, because there was no getting around that point.
"Point?" repeated Nick, who had been trying to follow the exchange of the left-and-backward-side of the English language. He raised his arm and pointed in a random direction.
"Never mind," Mike sighed again, rubbing his face with his hands. Some times talking could be so...infuriatingly exhausting. Mentally. "Just...get some other clothes, will ya?"
_____________________________
Okay I've edited the PE thing (in my files) though...
do we really need Mike with karate? *wince* Oh well.
He can do threatening things with any tools, and now he can do threatening things with just himself. Let's hope Nick's better student at it, shall we? =p
Monday, September 05, 2005
September- Nick soon dropped by
Okay, Lucy, do you mind looking up what they call PE in college (if you can access the course catelog or something)? Otherwise just ...keep reminding me I guess...
__________________________________
Nick soon dropped by regularly for math, along with Mike, who came for the conversation. It could be said that not much work got done between the two of them but everyone's happy so nobody really minded. It didn't take that long for the three to develop a friendship and the following soon became established facts:
That Mike was Not A Geek, the most pop-cultured in-tuned of the three, and also the crankiest save for the odd moments when Zach, seized in one of his black moods, would rival him for cynicism.
That Zach was the quietest and the most logical, with enough of the perseveringly present reasonableness that could drive his friend up the walls (and have, on various occasions), and had a sense of curiosity only second to Nick.
That Nick was, beyond reason, the most optimistic and most people-friendly of the three, not to be trusted around buttons and switches of any sort, and shared with Mike a distinct lack of patience that usually made Zach laugh and groan at the same time.
And all three of them had their own various streaks in their nature that made them a bit stranger than the rest of the college population. Or, as Mike would say, made them "special. Special ed."
Aside from that, there were various other, somewhat more minor factors that was sorted out as the three got to know each other better.
For instance, Zach and Nick took it upon themselves to try to persuade Mike that sleep-deprivation at the level that he was going at was not healthy... with mixed results. Sometimes Mike would go to sleep slightly earlier, sometimes he just vented at them and stayed up even later than usual. Either way he would have to be fed up with them to carry out his action.
Nick and Zach took their chances because, as the two agreed, fifty percent was still a better chance than what you'd normally get on multiple-choice tests. However, they were always careful not to talk about Mike's Sleeping Habits and Mike's Eating Habits (because there were some issues about that, too) on the same day.
_____________________________________
I really should give it up as a lost cost, huh? :-p
Your opinion, Lucy?
__________________________________
Nick soon dropped by regularly for math, along with Mike, who came for the conversation. It could be said that not much work got done between the two of them but everyone's happy so nobody really minded. It didn't take that long for the three to develop a friendship and the following soon became established facts:
That Mike was Not A Geek, the most pop-cultured in-tuned of the three, and also the crankiest save for the odd moments when Zach, seized in one of his black moods, would rival him for cynicism.
That Zach was the quietest and the most logical, with enough of the perseveringly present reasonableness that could drive his friend up the walls (and have, on various occasions), and had a sense of curiosity only second to Nick.
That Nick was, beyond reason, the most optimistic and most people-friendly of the three, not to be trusted around buttons and switches of any sort, and shared with Mike a distinct lack of patience that usually made Zach laugh and groan at the same time.
And all three of them had their own various streaks in their nature that made them a bit stranger than the rest of the college population. Or, as Mike would say, made them "special. Special ed."
Aside from that, there were various other, somewhat more minor factors that was sorted out as the three got to know each other better.
For instance, Zach and Nick took it upon themselves to try to persuade Mike that sleep-deprivation at the level that he was going at was not healthy... with mixed results. Sometimes Mike would go to sleep slightly earlier, sometimes he just vented at them and stayed up even later than usual. Either way he would have to be fed up with them to carry out his action.
Nick and Zach took their chances because, as the two agreed, fifty percent was still a better chance than what you'd normally get on multiple-choice tests. However, they were always careful not to talk about Mike's Sleeping Habits and Mike's Eating Habits (because there were some issues about that, too) on the same day.
_____________________________________
I really should give it up as a lost cost, huh? :-p
Your opinion, Lucy?
Sunday, September 04, 2005
September- It's
It is a frequently observed phenomenon that you might live within thirty meters of a stranger and spent time in the same area everyday and never see that person, but once you become acquainted with the said person, you see them EVERYWHERE.
Such was the case with Zach and Mike who, after their wayward introduction (having no other words to describe it), discovered with some amazement that they would see each other very frequently on campus. Mike developed the habit of dropping in when Zach's in his room, or in the usual spots where he normally went, study group or no. Zach, being the usual creature of habit that he was, stuck to his habit and welcomed Mike to become a part of it and have, in the course of events, had many long and drawn-out discussions about life, the universe and everything, including but not limited to the book and movie production that bears the name.
Thus Mike dropped in one day while Zach was with his math study group. As that they were not in the same math classes, Mike usually hung about and talked with the not-studying half (well, more like three forth, observing the laws of the college students) of the group. That day Nick, who was in the same math class as Zach, decided to drop by and had stayed to moan over the utter inability of the math professor to deliver an even mildly-intelligent lecture.
Both Nick and Zach were relatively mistake-tolerant when it comes to people, but they agreed that someone who repeatedly made mistakes at the 2 x 3 = 8 level does not deserve to become a college math professor.
"It's sad how we get along further when we don't listen to the teacher," observed Zach with a sigh. At this point, they were the only two left in the group of eight who were still attempting to make any headway with math.
"Yeah," agreed Nick, who was picking up the more relaxed form of American speech. "It takes her an hour to do a problem.... Have you finished problem five yet? What did you get?"
"You're in my PE class," said Mike to Nick, having wandered over a few minutes earlier.
"I am?" asked Nick with some surprise, accepting the paper that Zach gave him, along with the muttered "it might be wrong."
"Tuesday and Thursday morning at ten, right?" prompted Mike, and proceeded to give a quick, if slightly cynical, description of the teacher and their classmates.
"Nick, what'd you get for problem four?" asked Zach. He'd been listening in with some interest but felt obligated to continue his struggle with his math homework, against the ineptness of his math teacher.
"Probably the wrong answer," said Nick cheerfully, handing over both of their papers. "I must be in your class then." He told Mike.
"You're French," concluded Mike.
"I am," returned Nick, eyeing Mike with some curiosity. "You speak French?"
"Oui, monsieur!" Replied Mike with a wicked grin. "Suffered through four years in high school and I'm insane enough to be taking it now."
Nick looked delighted. He promptly launched into a rapid-fire speech in his native tongue and Mike, after listening for a moment, responded likewise. Zach glanced at the two for a moment and, satisfied that if math's not being done at least the two have found something to occupy themselves with, handed Nick back his paper and launched back into his homework.
______________________________________
Hm. I picked 'Fowler' and 'Calais' for different reasons, of course, but it's good to know that I'm getting the right kind (as in they-name-college-buildings-after kind) of names.
Two chapter's good enough for introduction, right? Er. Introducing characters and setting, I mean.
Such was the case with Zach and Mike who, after their wayward introduction (having no other words to describe it), discovered with some amazement that they would see each other very frequently on campus. Mike developed the habit of dropping in when Zach's in his room, or in the usual spots where he normally went, study group or no. Zach, being the usual creature of habit that he was, stuck to his habit and welcomed Mike to become a part of it and have, in the course of events, had many long and drawn-out discussions about life, the universe and everything, including but not limited to the book and movie production that bears the name.
Thus Mike dropped in one day while Zach was with his math study group. As that they were not in the same math classes, Mike usually hung about and talked with the not-studying half (well, more like three forth, observing the laws of the college students) of the group. That day Nick, who was in the same math class as Zach, decided to drop by and had stayed to moan over the utter inability of the math professor to deliver an even mildly-intelligent lecture.
Both Nick and Zach were relatively mistake-tolerant when it comes to people, but they agreed that someone who repeatedly made mistakes at the 2 x 3 = 8 level does not deserve to become a college math professor.
"It's sad how we get along further when we don't listen to the teacher," observed Zach with a sigh. At this point, they were the only two left in the group of eight who were still attempting to make any headway with math.
"Yeah," agreed Nick, who was picking up the more relaxed form of American speech. "It takes her an hour to do a problem.... Have you finished problem five yet? What did you get?"
"You're in my PE class," said Mike to Nick, having wandered over a few minutes earlier.
"I am?" asked Nick with some surprise, accepting the paper that Zach gave him, along with the muttered "it might be wrong."
"Tuesday and Thursday morning at ten, right?" prompted Mike, and proceeded to give a quick, if slightly cynical, description of the teacher and their classmates.
"Nick, what'd you get for problem four?" asked Zach. He'd been listening in with some interest but felt obligated to continue his struggle with his math homework, against the ineptness of his math teacher.
"Probably the wrong answer," said Nick cheerfully, handing over both of their papers. "I must be in your class then." He told Mike.
"You're French," concluded Mike.
"I am," returned Nick, eyeing Mike with some curiosity. "You speak French?"
"Oui, monsieur!" Replied Mike with a wicked grin. "Suffered through four years in high school and I'm insane enough to be taking it now."
Nick looked delighted. He promptly launched into a rapid-fire speech in his native tongue and Mike, after listening for a moment, responded likewise. Zach glanced at the two for a moment and, satisfied that if math's not being done at least the two have found something to occupy themselves with, handed Nick back his paper and launched back into his homework.
______________________________________
Hm. I picked 'Fowler' and 'Calais' for different reasons, of course, but it's good to know that I'm getting the right kind (as in they-name-college-buildings-after kind) of names.
Two chapter's good enough for introduction, right? Er. Introducing characters and setting, I mean.
Saturday, September 03, 2005
Friday, September 02, 2005
September- Mike glanced outside
Mike glanced outside. "I get off the stop after yours. Great aunt's. She expects me 'home' eeeevery weekend." He rolled his eyes.
"Does she fuss and pet and call you her 'dahling'?" asked Zach, trying to lighten the mood.
"Just about," confirmed Mike, "but she's the same to everyone, even my dad."
"And how old is your dad?" asked Zach with a smile.
"Thirty-something," said Mike, after a moment of thought. "He doesn't come here often though...usually's with his girlfriend somewhere back home or on business trips."
"You're not from around here?" asked Zach, who was becoming increasingly fascinated by the sort of information he was receiving. Morbidly fascinated.
"No, I'm from Minnesota. Came here for college. Great aunt decided to be nice and take me in." Came back the answer.
"Is it nice there? Minnesota, I mean," continued Zach, figuring that he'd better leave the potentially depressing questions and leave Mike to volunteer the information when he's ready.
"I guess so," replied Mike. "I miss Fluffy."
"..." said Zach, who was trying to make a connection between Minnesota, Fluffy, and the person known as 'Mike'. "Is Fluffy your dog?"
"Yeah," said Mike, smiling for the first time, "rottweiler puppy."
"Sounds cute," commented Zach, who didn't really know anything about dogs, but felt like it was the appropriate thing to say. You can't go wrong using the word "cute" with a name like "Fluffy," right?
"It is." Agreed Mike, pulling on the signal cord. "Your stop's next."
"I know, thank you," said Zach, who was marveling at the sorts of conclusion he was reaching regarding Mike's personality.
"Freshman, right? I'm in Fowler's," Mike offered.
"Calais Hall," returned Zach cautiously, as the bus pulled into his stop. "Guess I'll see you around then."
"Later, Zach."
"Bye."
Zach got off. Mike slouched back to his original position.
_____________________________________
On a note about the name "Fluffy", I thought I should mention it's the name of Hagrid's three-headed dog that nearly took Snape's leg off. :-p
Cute, isn't it?
"Does she fuss and pet and call you her 'dahling'?" asked Zach, trying to lighten the mood.
"Just about," confirmed Mike, "but she's the same to everyone, even my dad."
"And how old is your dad?" asked Zach with a smile.
"Thirty-something," said Mike, after a moment of thought. "He doesn't come here often though...usually's with his girlfriend somewhere back home or on business trips."
"You're not from around here?" asked Zach, who was becoming increasingly fascinated by the sort of information he was receiving. Morbidly fascinated.
"No, I'm from Minnesota. Came here for college. Great aunt decided to be nice and take me in." Came back the answer.
"Is it nice there? Minnesota, I mean," continued Zach, figuring that he'd better leave the potentially depressing questions and leave Mike to volunteer the information when he's ready.
"I guess so," replied Mike. "I miss Fluffy."
"..." said Zach, who was trying to make a connection between Minnesota, Fluffy, and the person known as 'Mike'. "Is Fluffy your dog?"
"Yeah," said Mike, smiling for the first time, "rottweiler puppy."
"Sounds cute," commented Zach, who didn't really know anything about dogs, but felt like it was the appropriate thing to say. You can't go wrong using the word "cute" with a name like "Fluffy," right?
"It is." Agreed Mike, pulling on the signal cord. "Your stop's next."
"I know, thank you," said Zach, who was marveling at the sorts of conclusion he was reaching regarding Mike's personality.
"Freshman, right? I'm in Fowler's," Mike offered.
"Calais Hall," returned Zach cautiously, as the bus pulled into his stop. "Guess I'll see you around then."
"Later, Zach."
"Bye."
Zach got off. Mike slouched back to his original position.
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On a note about the name "Fluffy", I thought I should mention it's the name of Hagrid's three-headed dog that nearly took Snape's leg off. :-p
Cute, isn't it?
Thursday, September 01, 2005
September- When they became friends
When they became friends it was nothing especially special. It happened, as things happen in life, by chance. Coincidence and fate may or may not have had a hand in it. It was hard to tell since they were not on speaking terms with each other, but this was how it happened:
Mike was tiredly waiting for the bus that would take him to his great aunt's and, having already satisfied the considerable appetite of his gloomy predictions in his imagination, he turned his attention to the art of being bored-until he spotted someone he thought he knew.
"Hey Jonathan!" He called, prodding the boy who had just arrived and was leaning against the bus sign.
Zach briefly ran through the list of names he'd been called through his life and turned up a blank for the name "Jonathan." However, the hand that poked him definitely belonged to the same owner as the voice. Therefore the name was definitely being applied to him.
"I'm sorry?" said Zach, looking up at Mike with considerable bewilderment. It might be said of the moment that as far as first impressions went, Mike, in his permanently present dark sweater and rugged jeans, didn't seem the type that Zach would normally associate himself with. Hence the bewilderment.
"Sorry," explained Mike, "you looked like Jonathan."
"Oh," said Zach. There wasn't a whole lot that you could say when someone told you you looked like someone else.
There was an awkward pause.
"Anyway," said Mike, gingerly stepping into the silence with as many misgivings as Zach had about him, though he didn't know it. He looked at the book that Zach was holding, then looked at Zach. "You a college freshman?" It was definitely a college-leveled textbook, even if the person holding it looked like he should still be in high school.
"Ye-es..." said Zach, who was wondering why someone like Mike was still talking to him. He had no illusions about himself, and knew that he was a nerd, and looked it.
"Cool," said Mike, a bit desperately. He was exhausted after his week and knew that he had no hopes of resting for a few more hours, at least, and he felt like he ought to do something after calling a boy he'd never talked with before in his life "Jonathan." "Me too. I'm Mike."
"Zach." Said Zach, and left it at that.
There was another pause. Mike sat down on the curb. Zach leaned back against the pole and contemplated the direction where the bus was suppose to come from.
The pause grew at a rate that would've impressed the bacteria cultures in any science lab. However, before it could become a monstrosity, the unmistakable shape of the local bus presented itself around the corners.
"The bus's coming," said Zach.
"Mm." said Mike, getting to his feet and moving out of the way as the bus pulled in with a screech. "Want to sit here?" He asked Zach as they staggered down the center isle in respect to the overzealous turns made by the bus driver.
"Uh, sure," said Zach, surprised. He studied Mike for a few more moments and decided to scrap his original impression and drew up a full analysis. For some reason, he felt like he should do one.
Mike got in to a seat, slouched over, and propped his head up against the glass.
Zach paused in his psychoanalysis. "...tired?" he ventured lamely. It was either that or saying "you look like you're going to drop dead," and Zach decided to go the more cheerful way. It seemed appropriate.
"Yeah," mumbled Mike. It was either keeping it very simple, or start talking and not knowing when or where he'd be able to stop himself.
"Lousy day?" prompted Zach, in an effort to be sociable. They had multi-stop bus ride in front of them.
"Lousy week. Heck, lousy year," Mike paused. "You know what? Life sucks!" He burst out suddenly.
An alarm bell begin to go off somewhere in the back of Zach's mind. Parts of this sounded awfully familiar. Déjà vu was overrated.
"How so?" Zach asked mildly, speeding up his analysis.
"Well," begin Mike, voice dripping with sarcasm. "There's the fact that our current government sucks, the fact that our school system sucks, the fact that people in general suck...they do stupid things, you know?"
"Uh-huh." Said Zach. Depression, general anxiety, withdrawal, thought Zach, somewhat amused at what his mind was coming up with, except not really.
"Earth sucks, that's why we don't float off into space," said Mike in a tone of mock philosophy.
Probably chronic, thought Zach. "I don't know," he said lightly, and made a show of peering outside the window. "I rather like where we live."
"No, I mean, I like it too, but it's the way the things are...." Said Mike, and sighed. "It really bothers me."
"The way WHAT things are?" prodded Zach.
"Everything," said Mike, in the tone of one who had lost all hopes in humanity for ever and beyond.
"Ah," said Zach. Then, as a silence settled in, "I get off in three stops...group project meeting...."
_______________________________________________________
lol...Lucy, be thankful your turn wasn't as awkward as this. Then again, you probably have better people skills....
Three steps into reality and then a leap out. Anyone keeping count for me?
Mike was tiredly waiting for the bus that would take him to his great aunt's and, having already satisfied the considerable appetite of his gloomy predictions in his imagination, he turned his attention to the art of being bored-until he spotted someone he thought he knew.
"Hey Jonathan!" He called, prodding the boy who had just arrived and was leaning against the bus sign.
Zach briefly ran through the list of names he'd been called through his life and turned up a blank for the name "Jonathan." However, the hand that poked him definitely belonged to the same owner as the voice. Therefore the name was definitely being applied to him.
"I'm sorry?" said Zach, looking up at Mike with considerable bewilderment. It might be said of the moment that as far as first impressions went, Mike, in his permanently present dark sweater and rugged jeans, didn't seem the type that Zach would normally associate himself with. Hence the bewilderment.
"Sorry," explained Mike, "you looked like Jonathan."
"Oh," said Zach. There wasn't a whole lot that you could say when someone told you you looked like someone else.
There was an awkward pause.
"Anyway," said Mike, gingerly stepping into the silence with as many misgivings as Zach had about him, though he didn't know it. He looked at the book that Zach was holding, then looked at Zach. "You a college freshman?" It was definitely a college-leveled textbook, even if the person holding it looked like he should still be in high school.
"Ye-es..." said Zach, who was wondering why someone like Mike was still talking to him. He had no illusions about himself, and knew that he was a nerd, and looked it.
"Cool," said Mike, a bit desperately. He was exhausted after his week and knew that he had no hopes of resting for a few more hours, at least, and he felt like he ought to do something after calling a boy he'd never talked with before in his life "Jonathan." "Me too. I'm Mike."
"Zach." Said Zach, and left it at that.
There was another pause. Mike sat down on the curb. Zach leaned back against the pole and contemplated the direction where the bus was suppose to come from.
The pause grew at a rate that would've impressed the bacteria cultures in any science lab. However, before it could become a monstrosity, the unmistakable shape of the local bus presented itself around the corners.
"The bus's coming," said Zach.
"Mm." said Mike, getting to his feet and moving out of the way as the bus pulled in with a screech. "Want to sit here?" He asked Zach as they staggered down the center isle in respect to the overzealous turns made by the bus driver.
"Uh, sure," said Zach, surprised. He studied Mike for a few more moments and decided to scrap his original impression and drew up a full analysis. For some reason, he felt like he should do one.
Mike got in to a seat, slouched over, and propped his head up against the glass.
Zach paused in his psychoanalysis. "...tired?" he ventured lamely. It was either that or saying "you look like you're going to drop dead," and Zach decided to go the more cheerful way. It seemed appropriate.
"Yeah," mumbled Mike. It was either keeping it very simple, or start talking and not knowing when or where he'd be able to stop himself.
"Lousy day?" prompted Zach, in an effort to be sociable. They had multi-stop bus ride in front of them.
"Lousy week. Heck, lousy year," Mike paused. "You know what? Life sucks!" He burst out suddenly.
An alarm bell begin to go off somewhere in the back of Zach's mind. Parts of this sounded awfully familiar. Déjà vu was overrated.
"How so?" Zach asked mildly, speeding up his analysis.
"Well," begin Mike, voice dripping with sarcasm. "There's the fact that our current government sucks, the fact that our school system sucks, the fact that people in general suck...they do stupid things, you know?"
"Uh-huh." Said Zach. Depression, general anxiety, withdrawal, thought Zach, somewhat amused at what his mind was coming up with, except not really.
"Earth sucks, that's why we don't float off into space," said Mike in a tone of mock philosophy.
Probably chronic, thought Zach. "I don't know," he said lightly, and made a show of peering outside the window. "I rather like where we live."
"No, I mean, I like it too, but it's the way the things are...." Said Mike, and sighed. "It really bothers me."
"The way WHAT things are?" prodded Zach.
"Everything," said Mike, in the tone of one who had lost all hopes in humanity for ever and beyond.
"Ah," said Zach. Then, as a silence settled in, "I get off in three stops...group project meeting...."
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lol...Lucy, be thankful your turn wasn't as awkward as this. Then again, you probably have better people skills....
Three steps into reality and then a leap out. Anyone keeping count for me?
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