Alright, I decided to try my hand at a Wicked story. Its based off a real one, with me n Fiyero's position. Its basically humor, and there isn't an exact plot line. It's just...well read and find out.
Disclaimer: Wicked, not mine, sadly.
Fiyero's POV
It was a typical day at Shiz University. It was typical history class with typical Elphaba sitting in the front row and taking intent notes on everything. Typical Galinda sat a row behind playing with her hair and applying something to her lips and occasionally scribbling something on her paper. Oh, and the professor was teaching us something. I think.
If I haven't mentioned it yet, typical translates to boring.
Anyway, I, as usual, sat in the back row of the class, drumming on my desk with a pencil someone must have forgotten earlier in the day. After the first few minutes those in front of me stopped with the weird looks and tried to ignore it, though I was being fairly loud.
Nessa and Galinda, also as anticipated, turned around periodically, stifling laughs at my forms of amusement. I'd flash them a grin to which they'd merely shake their heads and turn back around. And then I'd shrug and start on something else.
After going through nearly a full song I heard the giggling again, and turned up to notice the entire class looking at me. Nobody said anything. I looked to Nessa, she was in front of the empty desk in front of me, and nearly snapped, "What!?!"
Galinda attempted to whisper, though she was quiet a loud whisperer, "Fiyero, Professor asked you a question about….something."
Gee, that was helpful. I looked up and met eyes with our teacher. I smiled at him, but he didn't look very amused. "Okay, really, what is it?" I didn't mind being stared at, I was used to that, but I'd like to know why.
More laughter from the class, and a deeper frown from our teacher. I shrugged, stood up on the chair, and bowed. Everyone was cracking up now, and I even saw Elphaba trying to hide her laughter. The professor however, I swear his face looked about ready to split.
Had someone else done what I did, they would have heard something like "Go see the Headmaster, now!" in a very angry voice. But, as nobody wants to waste their time on me, having already been declared a hopeless cause, I received a look telling me to sit.
I held my arms up defensively and moved to sit down; bowing again quickly in the split second the teacher looked away. He sighed knowingly and got on with the lesson, which I still hadn't figured out the topic of. I shrugged and started ripping an eraser into tiny pieces and flinging them. This, by the way, would be the reason the desk in front of me remains empty.
Bored of the eraser bits and lacking in any other inanimate objects, I attempted to listen to the lesson. It didn't work. See, history professors have this thing about using many big words, unheard-of names, and very old dates as they possibly can. And the students, or maybe its just me, don't really appreciate it.
I suppose I fell asleep, because I remember laying against the supply table, and then I remember jolting up as the bell rang for class to be dismissed. I grabbed my things and got up to leave, but was stopped on the way out as we were passed back our last test. Apparently getting a fifteen percent is a reason to stay after class.
After receiving a long lecture, or at least one that felt long, I crumpled up my paper, tossed it in the trash can, and left the room.
Just a typical day, a typical class, typical people, and another hour of life gone by that none of us are ever going to get back.
And that was my attempt at turning my boredom into a Wicked story. Please tell me how I did. And I thank you for reading.