Doug Eiffel stood in the middle of campus, very bored.

As usual, his name had been drawn for the Astronomy Club's "flier duty." And now he was, as the other members called the unlucky soul whose name was drawn, the "Flier Dipshit." I swear, that system is rigged, he thought.

So there he was, stuck on campus on a Saturday afternoon, handing out fliers for the Astronomy Club's monthly presentation on recent discoveries and breakthroughs in the world of astronomy and space travel. The problem is that no one but Astronomy Club members show up for the presentation, no matter how many fliers the Flier Dipshit hands out.

(It should be noted that there are only five members in the Astronomy Club. Three of them give the presentation, and everyone does the research, which means the two remaining members already know what's in the presentation. Doug had voiced his opinion on continuing to do the presentation when nobody showed up, but had only been threatened with expulsion from the Club.)

Doug had half a mind to just leave and go do whatever he wanted to instead of standing here like—get this—a dipshit, but the head of the Club always seemed to find out about that sort of thing, which would mean he'd be kicked out for sure. "That might not actually be a bad thing..." he grumbled.

"What might not be a bad thing?" a female voice said behind him.

"Gah! What- Who- Why?! Don't scare me like that!"

"Whoops, sorry about that! I'm Hera. Nice to meet you," the owner of the voice said, holding out her hand.

"Don't worry about it. I'm Doug. Doug Eiffel," he said, shaking her outstretched hand. He noticed the fliers in her hand. "So, uh, are you a Flier Dipshit, too?"

"Excuse me?"

"O-Oh! Uh, I said, 'Are you handing out fliers, too?'" Doug stammered.

"Hm, I could have sworn you said something else," Hera said, giving him a knowing smirk. "But I guess not."

Doug wasn't sure whether to be more relieved that Hera wouldn't mention his slip-up further, or to be more embarrassed that his slip-up happened in the first place. He settled on an equal amount of both.

"So, what are you handing out fliers for?" Hera asked. "Mine are for a party—one that hopefully won't get too wild."

"Well, yours is a lot more interesting than mine…"

Doug explained about the Astronomy Club and their presentation. To his surprise, Hera seemed interested. He doubted she'd show up, though.

They made small talk for a bit, handing out fliers for their respective causes whenever someone walked by. Well, when someone who would take them walked by. Eventually, Hera had an idea to curb the monotony of the task. She gave Doug a look. A mischievous look.

"Hey, what's that look for?" Doug asked.

"I have an idea," said Hera.

Doug raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"Let's have a contest to see who can hand out the most fliers."

"Sure. What does the winner get?"

"We'll figure something out. Contest begins in three… two…"

"Waitwaitwaitwaitwait! Any rules? Anything off limits?"

Hera just gave him an "I'm Up To Something" look. That can't be good, thought Doug.

"…ONE!"

A student walked by.

"Oh, hey! Renée! Could you do me a favor?"

The student, Renée, stopped.

"Of course, Hera. What can I do?"

"Please spread the word—tell everyone you see: do not take Doug Eiffel's Astronomy Club fliers."

"Can do."

"Thanks, Renée!"

"Anytime, Hera."

She walked away. Doug could see her stopping people a little ways off, talking and pointing at him. Those people would glance his way and make a face.

Who knows what kinds of lies she's making up?!

"Hey!" yelled Doug. "You… You can't do that! That's cheating! No, wait. That's like, über-cheating!"

"No, this is 'über-cheating,'" Hera said as someone rounded the corner.

"Excuse me, Sir? Sir! Over here!" Hera shouted. The student walked over.

"Um, can I… help you?"

"Why, yes! Yes you can. I'm handing out fliers for a party next weekend. Could you do me a favor and hand these out to people? You know, friends, people you pass by on the sidewalk, et cetera."

He stared at her blankly for a second.

"Yes? Great. Thanks! Oh, and one more thing! What's your name?"

"Uh, Alex."

She pulled a pen out of her pocket and wrote on one of the fliers:

VIP Pass for Alex.

Guaranteed Admission!

-Hera

"There you go! Now you'll definitely get in. Have a nice day!" she said, shoving a small stack of fliers into Alex's hands. He walked off, looking back once before he turned the corner with an odd look on his face, like he was still trying to process what had just happened.

Once he was gone, Hera turned to Doug, who also had an odd look on his face, like he was still trying to process what had just happened.

"Don't tell him, but everyone gets into the party!" she said with a giggle.

Doug narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, it is on," he grumbled.

The next thirty minutes were filled with lots of pointing and wild accusations about each other's fliers.

"His fliers have fake information! You'll show up on the wrong day at the wrong time!"

"Not as fake as hers! The phone number is for Comcast customer service! And on top of being the wrong number, we all know how calls with them go."

"He put itching powder on his fliers! What the hell, Doug?!"

"She cursed her fliers! If you so much as look at one, everyone you know will die!"

"He's sick! He coughed on all of his fliers! They'll give you the flu!"

"HER FLIERS GAVE ME CANCER!"

"Who's going to believe that?!"

"You never know!"

"Oh for the love of- JUST TAKE MY FLIER!" Hera yelled at a passing student.

"NO, TAKE MY FLIER!" Doug yelled at the same passing student, playfully shoving Hera aside.

"TAKE MINE!"

"MINE!"

"MINE!"

As the poor, genuinely terrified-looking student sprinted away, Doug and Hera wondered if they should stop. Both answered each other, grinning, at the same time:

"Naaah!"

And all of that gradually devolved into wild accusations about each other.

"He always passes by the Salvation Army bell-ringers around Christmas!"

"She steals from Goodwill donation bins!"

"He prank-calls 911!"

"She sends hate-mail to terminally ill children in the hospital!"

"Doug! That's crossing the line!"

"Well, you miiiiight wanna admit defeat and surrender, then."

He opened his mouth to spout more nonsense. Hera, not wanting to hear what could be worse than sending hate-mail to terminally ill children, gave up.

"Alright, alright! Fine! You win! I surrender," she said, sighing in defeat.

Doug pumped his fist in the air and started to do a little victory dance.

"Woo-HOOOOOO! Yes! Doug: one, Hera: zero!"

"Buuuuut,"

Doug stopped midstep.

"'Buuuuut' what? You just said I won!"

"Buuuuut, there was no 'Who Can Make the Most Wild Accusation' contest. The actual contest was to see who could hand out more fliers, which I appear to have won. Soooo, Doug: zero, Hera: one."

Doug had that 'trying to process what just happened' look, again.

"But… But…"

"No 'buts!' I won, so that makes me the Greater Flier Dipshit. Or Lesser, depending on how you look at it."

Doug's face turned bright red in embarrassment. He spluttered, trying to find words.

"I-I… I… Um… I-"

Hera just smiled at him and took a flier out of his hand. She winked at him, handed him one of her own fliers, and began to walk away.

"See you at the presentation, Doug!"

"W-Wha…"

He was dumbfounded. He stood there in shock, his jaw practically on the floor. Glancing down at the flier Hera had handed him, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped even farther, if that was even possible.

Is this… Is this her number? With a heart?!

Doug glanced back up to see Hera waving at him. He waved back.

"See you at the party," he said softly, smiling a big, goofy, Doug Eiffel-esque grin.

Just what have I gotten myself into? he thought happily.