Chapter 7 - You've always been a thorn in the side, but to me you're a
shinning light.
Yay! I've updated pretty quickly for me! Be happy. Sorry It aint me best, written during my free period between revision. Very late now. Well, I promised you something interesting, and you've got it. Only a few notes -
1/ The art teacher is based on Mr Dyall in 'Never trust a rabbit' by Jeremy Dyson, hence the art teacher's name. It's a good book. I enjoy it immensely.
2/ Winoda Ryder was cut on her right hand, so it isn't a copy-cat cut. Hehehe alliteration, no I mean it doesn't mean the same thing.
3/ Title from Shinning light by Ash. V-good song. Me likes it a lot.
4/ You might be able to guess what happens next. I hope you can wait a little while for next chapter. Middle of exams. Ick.
**********
Jane couldn't sleep that night, and had tossed and turned, thinking about whether she should have tried to tell him that she had set up the machine by accident, or if she should have explained why it was dangerous for people to see him. Or was it? They had accepted him once before, and she wasn't all that scared when she first met him, was he really all that terrifying?
Or was it she wanted a secret all of her own?
Jane had shivered about this thought. Was she really that selfish? Did she want to keep him all to herself so she could have a secret? So she wouldn't have to share him? Was she really that nasty? She reasoned she was, and hadn't been able to sleep all night.
The next morning, to her dismay, she overslept by about an hour and was late for school. Panicking, she had thrown on a shirt over her pyjama top and slipped into a pair of jeans before picking up her bag full of school stuff, jamming a couple of paintbrushes in her hair to keep the bun in place and running the full mile to school.
When she arrived she realised she had missed her first period of a two period session. It was art. Her sneakers squeaked down the empty corridor as she ran to her lesson, her heart screaming like crazy in tiredness and a distinct cramp in her leg starting to form. She tripped over her legs, throwing her books and pencils all over the empty hall floor. She moaned in frustration and quickly opening her bag, she sat on the floor grabbing vainly at the equipment and threw it with the utmost negligence she could muster. Jane could not get rid of the sensation that her life was part of some intergalactic joke and right now some aliens were watching her and laughing at her.
She packed up her bag, and getting up, half stumbling, half running; she sprinted to the art room, her bag making strange sounds as it clunked against her hip. She reached the door, panting, and swallowing her breath she waited to cool down a little just before she went in. She took a couple of deep breaths, and then, opening the door as little as possible slipped inside.
The class's eyes barely flickered towards her as she sidled in and collapsed on a chair at the back of the room.
'......So that is how myths a legends have inspired renaissance art, ' droned the teacher, 'and I see that Miss Parsons has decided to grace us with her presents.'
The whole class turned their heads and craned around to see her as if they were a single automated machine. Jane felt her face start to burn from embarrassment, and mumbled under her breath, 'I'm sorry Mr Dyson, I overslept.'
'Then buy an Alarm clock Miss Parsons, they aren't expensive and that way you could gain every moment of my knowledge, or did you think that you were too good to listen to the first period of my lesson?' The class laughed at her as her face burned red and she looked at the floor.
'Sorry sir.' She whispered.
'May I say that with your limited ability you need to be here on time so you do not flunk my class, and that if you wish to complete your first term piece, that you should at least attend the lesson in which I am talking about it.'
''Orry sir.' She whispered more quietly as the class conspicuously tried to stop themselves from bursting out laughing. A few of them couldn't and snorted loudly.
Mr Dyson, now satisfied that his least favourite student had been properly admonished for arriving late, turned back to the class and said, ' Miss Parsons has lead me onto the subject of our first piece. The title for this piece is 'myths and legends.' Like the pictures we have talked about this morning I want you to do two things. First of all, I wish you to think of a particular fairy story, myth or saga, one that might have caused an emotional response, fear, anger, sadness, joy, and to create an image in the styles we have practised over this term. The image should be of a story you can explain very quickly, and both explore the moral or reason behind the story, as well as your emotional response. To answer this question I am about to give you in an image: What does this story have to do with me? And- Miss-Parsons-what-on-earth-are-you-doing?'
Jane held a notepad in her hand and had been scribbling down notes madly. 'Mr Dyson, I was just writing down - '
'Miss Parsons, I will give you time to do that afterwards, and coming in late you need to listen to me.'
Jane slowly put the notebook on the floor flashing Mr Dyson a dirty look when he wasn't looking.
'.As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,' said Mr Dyson, directing it directly as Jane in such a manner that everyone looked at her again, 'the subject of your picture should say as much about you as it does about the story. For example, if I were to do the story of Hansle and Grettle,' a few people laughed at the idea that Mr Dyson would ever do a picture of such a twee subject.' instead of doing a still life of a girl pushing a witch into an oven, I would do the picture of them in a forest, the forest representing how lost we both feel and the breadcrumbs as a sign of false hope. I would advice our friend Miss Parsons to do the story of the vampire, a creature that cannot bear to walk in sunlight.'
The class laughed goonishly again while Jane turned an even brighter shade of red.
'Or maybe Rudolf the red nose reindeer!' shouted Danny. Although most people did not actually find the joke funny, they laughed at it anyway because first of all, he was a popular Jock and you did not argue with him, and secondly because it was fun to make fun of someone who nobody really liked, let alone know anything about, and didn't react.
'And I shall be pleased to pass your piece of work only because the Principle would fire me if they dropped a top football player from the team.' Said Mr Dyson dryly. Everyone stopped laughing.
There was a silence before one of Mr Dyson's more favourable student put up their hand and said, 'Mr Dyson, would you be able to recount a legend like ''Night of the living dead?'''
'Ah, you mean urban legends? Yes, of course, with explanation of course. ' Replied Mr Dyson, 'because you have to admit, many Urban Legends, not including the movie, can have emotive subjects such as child abduction and my particular favourite, the old lady who put her dog in a microwave oven.'
Some people in the class laughed, while a few preppy girls made a face of disgust at the very notion. The bell rang and Mr Dyson clapped his hands.
'Right class, I'll see you next week, please bring all your sketches and sources with you, as well as photos, ideas and so on, as well as the completed piece. They must be in this time next week.'
As Jane filed out, an idea formed in her head. Why not? She thought, why not paint Edward? It was like she had her story ready and waiting, all she needed now was time.
**********
Unknown to an oblivious Jane and Edward, as the teacher shut the door he heard a voice behind him said icily, 'Mr Dyson, the Metaphysic's have a job for you.'
He turned around, the figure veiled in the shadows that had suddenly appeared in the classroom. He sighed on the sight of the figure and moaned, 'Oh God, Jes, you know I'm out of that now!'
'You're not.' Said the figure derisively, ' Unless you're ready to stop getting money from us, you have to do as we ask.'
'What is it?' Said the teacher; his voice so usually full of sarcasm and slight desperation sounded so strange when it was resigned and fearful.
'One of you're pupils Mr Dyson,' said the figure stepping forward enough so you could see its grey blue eyes and hear the jingle of metal buttons and boots, 'are of interest to us...'
**********
She ran all the way to the mansion that day. She ran past all the topiaries without giving them a second thought, and almost knocking the door down she ran inside.
'Edward!' she cried out, 'Edward!'
Edward sidled out of some shadows and snipped welcomingly.
'Edward, I have something to show you!' she said, opening her bag, taking something out and letting it fall to the floor.
Edward, looking at the excited expression on her face stepped closer, his own face alight with wonder and awe at the unseen object. Jane lifted the object to her face, pointing it at him. Edward snipped his scissors.
'Cheese!' she exclaimed.
Before Edward knew was had happened there was a bright flash of light that forced him back again. The light disappeared, and he snipped nervously, looking around to see where the thing that flashed was.
'Oh Edward, I'm sorry,' said Jane, rushing over and holding his wrist, 'I should've told you. ' Jane showed him the thing in her hand, 'I went into the store just before I came here and I bought a camera. Look, it isn't dangerous.'
She let go, and held the camera so Edward could look at it properly. First of all he leaned forwards, as if he wouldn't get another chance to scrutinise the object. He narrowed his eyes a little, and with one long shaft of metal he poked at it, as if making sure it was dead. There was a rip of cheap cardboard as he did so, but he cocked his head to one side, and poked at the camera again, as if to find out if there were any more nooks and crannies in it. Jane didn't recoil, but staring at him intently said, 'see, it's just a camera.'
He looked up, moving mechanically, and smiled, the leather skin creaking gently, as if to inform her that he had made sure of her facts, and he now felt safe with the foreign object. She lifted it slowly to her face again and said, 'when you press this button, 'she pointed to a button on the camera, 'you can an image of a person inside the camera, which, at a later date you can put on paper without having to draw it.'
Edward nodded, still weary of the object. He poked it again with his scissors. Jane smiled to herself and lowering it she said, 'Edward, I have a favour to ask of you.'
He stared at her, his mind still preoccupied with the camera.
'This is going to sound strange, but could I paint you?'
Edward recoiled very fast and looked at her completely terrified. His blades clicked madly and he looked around, as if expecting people to jump out at him.
'Please Edward, I just want to paint a picture of you - ' Edward suddenly relaxed. The terror left his face and was replaced with slight embarrassed calm.
Jane couldn't help but chuckled to herself. He had thought she had wanted to paint him - literally! She knew it was a little mean, but sometimes even the best of us can't help it. She stepped towards him, her eyes full of sincerity. 'You don't have to, but I'd like you to let me. You don't even have to stay still, I could just be with you, just let me sketch things down.'
Edward looked to the walls of the old mansion as if he was deciding something. He stood there, looking at the wall for a good minute, and then turned to her. 'My father had paintings of himself.' He said.
'So, would you like one?' she asked.
Edward looked at her for a few seconds and then said, his voice weighed down with decision and carefulness, 'yes. I'd like it very much.'
Jane unexpectedly threw her arms around him to hug him. Edward, shocked, threw out his arms to catch her, but as he raised his hands, one of his blades speared Jane's left hand. Time seemed to hang in the air as she gasped out in pain, and held it up to her face to watched a single drop of warm blood weal up in the unintentional wound, and then, with the slowness of the mountains, they watched as it gradually trickled down her hand and felt like a comet to the floor, the sound of the small "plop" magnified by a million.
Jane looked up into his face, her face a picture of fear. Edward looked around, panicking. It had been a long while since he had drawn blood, and the same feeling of guilt and absolute terror filled his very being. By the expression on his face, he thought that she was about to shout at him the same things Jim had shouted at him long ago. * You ruin everything!* He said to himself in his head, *You destroy everything you touch!*He felt the dread roll up in his stomach. He opened his mouth, as if trying to explain it had just been an accident, he hadn't meant to do what he had done, but he had done it, and he knew that he shouldn't 've done it.
Then, as if time speeded up to compensate for the slowness before, Jane gripped her hand and let out a little groan. Edward didn't know what to do, but he did the first thing that came into his mind - Run. He turned to run away, but he heard a voice call out, 'Edward!'
He turned around, against his better judgement. Jane stood there, a little paler than usual, but otherwise fine. 'Edward, I'm sorry. It was just an accident. '
He stared at her. He couldn't remember a time when what he did was an accident. It had always been his fault, but never an accident. He became intrigued by this way of thinking, and walked towards her again, slowly, like a wounded dog. 'It was?' he asked.
He nodded, biting her lip.
'You still want to be my friend?' he asked, the excitement in his voice barely contained.
'I don't see why not.' She giggled, 'I just need to get a plaster or something, nothing too bad.'
'Do you still want to come up here, ' he asked in his innocent tone, 'you still wan to paint me?'
'Of course!' said Jane, stepping towards him, 'but first of all, I should wipe your blades clean. ' She reached into her pocket, and taking him over to the desk next to the cookie machine sat him down while she bound her hand with one half, and wiped Edwards blades clean with the other half.
Edward felt quiet happy as the girl wiped his blades ever so carefully, as if she were an expert at cleaning the things. She buffed them as much as she could with the tissue, and when she had finished she looked up at him and remarked, 'all done.'
Edward stood up and watched how she bound the hand with the little scrap of paper handkerchief, and watched as she turned around and saw something standing on a pedestal. She walked over to it, and picked it up. Edward looked at her curiously as she turned the pages. Jane seemed to notice his gaze and asked, 'Edward, what's this book?'
'It's my fathers book all about me.' Said Edward, 'It shows how I was made.'
Jane closed the book and looked right up at him asked, 'would you mind if I took it home and read it. It's very interesting.'
He shook his head. Jane put it on the floor, and standing up she said, 'Well, I think I better get started on this painting. Do you mind if I use the camera again?'
*********
Thanks for reading, please R and R this poor Author on your way out of this browser. All reviews appreciated. V.v. so because of exams.
Yay! I've updated pretty quickly for me! Be happy. Sorry It aint me best, written during my free period between revision. Very late now. Well, I promised you something interesting, and you've got it. Only a few notes -
1/ The art teacher is based on Mr Dyall in 'Never trust a rabbit' by Jeremy Dyson, hence the art teacher's name. It's a good book. I enjoy it immensely.
2/ Winoda Ryder was cut on her right hand, so it isn't a copy-cat cut. Hehehe alliteration, no I mean it doesn't mean the same thing.
3/ Title from Shinning light by Ash. V-good song. Me likes it a lot.
4/ You might be able to guess what happens next. I hope you can wait a little while for next chapter. Middle of exams. Ick.
**********
Jane couldn't sleep that night, and had tossed and turned, thinking about whether she should have tried to tell him that she had set up the machine by accident, or if she should have explained why it was dangerous for people to see him. Or was it? They had accepted him once before, and she wasn't all that scared when she first met him, was he really all that terrifying?
Or was it she wanted a secret all of her own?
Jane had shivered about this thought. Was she really that selfish? Did she want to keep him all to herself so she could have a secret? So she wouldn't have to share him? Was she really that nasty? She reasoned she was, and hadn't been able to sleep all night.
The next morning, to her dismay, she overslept by about an hour and was late for school. Panicking, she had thrown on a shirt over her pyjama top and slipped into a pair of jeans before picking up her bag full of school stuff, jamming a couple of paintbrushes in her hair to keep the bun in place and running the full mile to school.
When she arrived she realised she had missed her first period of a two period session. It was art. Her sneakers squeaked down the empty corridor as she ran to her lesson, her heart screaming like crazy in tiredness and a distinct cramp in her leg starting to form. She tripped over her legs, throwing her books and pencils all over the empty hall floor. She moaned in frustration and quickly opening her bag, she sat on the floor grabbing vainly at the equipment and threw it with the utmost negligence she could muster. Jane could not get rid of the sensation that her life was part of some intergalactic joke and right now some aliens were watching her and laughing at her.
She packed up her bag, and getting up, half stumbling, half running; she sprinted to the art room, her bag making strange sounds as it clunked against her hip. She reached the door, panting, and swallowing her breath she waited to cool down a little just before she went in. She took a couple of deep breaths, and then, opening the door as little as possible slipped inside.
The class's eyes barely flickered towards her as she sidled in and collapsed on a chair at the back of the room.
'......So that is how myths a legends have inspired renaissance art, ' droned the teacher, 'and I see that Miss Parsons has decided to grace us with her presents.'
The whole class turned their heads and craned around to see her as if they were a single automated machine. Jane felt her face start to burn from embarrassment, and mumbled under her breath, 'I'm sorry Mr Dyson, I overslept.'
'Then buy an Alarm clock Miss Parsons, they aren't expensive and that way you could gain every moment of my knowledge, or did you think that you were too good to listen to the first period of my lesson?' The class laughed at her as her face burned red and she looked at the floor.
'Sorry sir.' She whispered.
'May I say that with your limited ability you need to be here on time so you do not flunk my class, and that if you wish to complete your first term piece, that you should at least attend the lesson in which I am talking about it.'
''Orry sir.' She whispered more quietly as the class conspicuously tried to stop themselves from bursting out laughing. A few of them couldn't and snorted loudly.
Mr Dyson, now satisfied that his least favourite student had been properly admonished for arriving late, turned back to the class and said, ' Miss Parsons has lead me onto the subject of our first piece. The title for this piece is 'myths and legends.' Like the pictures we have talked about this morning I want you to do two things. First of all, I wish you to think of a particular fairy story, myth or saga, one that might have caused an emotional response, fear, anger, sadness, joy, and to create an image in the styles we have practised over this term. The image should be of a story you can explain very quickly, and both explore the moral or reason behind the story, as well as your emotional response. To answer this question I am about to give you in an image: What does this story have to do with me? And- Miss-Parsons-what-on-earth-are-you-doing?'
Jane held a notepad in her hand and had been scribbling down notes madly. 'Mr Dyson, I was just writing down - '
'Miss Parsons, I will give you time to do that afterwards, and coming in late you need to listen to me.'
Jane slowly put the notebook on the floor flashing Mr Dyson a dirty look when he wasn't looking.
'.As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,' said Mr Dyson, directing it directly as Jane in such a manner that everyone looked at her again, 'the subject of your picture should say as much about you as it does about the story. For example, if I were to do the story of Hansle and Grettle,' a few people laughed at the idea that Mr Dyson would ever do a picture of such a twee subject.' instead of doing a still life of a girl pushing a witch into an oven, I would do the picture of them in a forest, the forest representing how lost we both feel and the breadcrumbs as a sign of false hope. I would advice our friend Miss Parsons to do the story of the vampire, a creature that cannot bear to walk in sunlight.'
The class laughed goonishly again while Jane turned an even brighter shade of red.
'Or maybe Rudolf the red nose reindeer!' shouted Danny. Although most people did not actually find the joke funny, they laughed at it anyway because first of all, he was a popular Jock and you did not argue with him, and secondly because it was fun to make fun of someone who nobody really liked, let alone know anything about, and didn't react.
'And I shall be pleased to pass your piece of work only because the Principle would fire me if they dropped a top football player from the team.' Said Mr Dyson dryly. Everyone stopped laughing.
There was a silence before one of Mr Dyson's more favourable student put up their hand and said, 'Mr Dyson, would you be able to recount a legend like ''Night of the living dead?'''
'Ah, you mean urban legends? Yes, of course, with explanation of course. ' Replied Mr Dyson, 'because you have to admit, many Urban Legends, not including the movie, can have emotive subjects such as child abduction and my particular favourite, the old lady who put her dog in a microwave oven.'
Some people in the class laughed, while a few preppy girls made a face of disgust at the very notion. The bell rang and Mr Dyson clapped his hands.
'Right class, I'll see you next week, please bring all your sketches and sources with you, as well as photos, ideas and so on, as well as the completed piece. They must be in this time next week.'
As Jane filed out, an idea formed in her head. Why not? She thought, why not paint Edward? It was like she had her story ready and waiting, all she needed now was time.
**********
Unknown to an oblivious Jane and Edward, as the teacher shut the door he heard a voice behind him said icily, 'Mr Dyson, the Metaphysic's have a job for you.'
He turned around, the figure veiled in the shadows that had suddenly appeared in the classroom. He sighed on the sight of the figure and moaned, 'Oh God, Jes, you know I'm out of that now!'
'You're not.' Said the figure derisively, ' Unless you're ready to stop getting money from us, you have to do as we ask.'
'What is it?' Said the teacher; his voice so usually full of sarcasm and slight desperation sounded so strange when it was resigned and fearful.
'One of you're pupils Mr Dyson,' said the figure stepping forward enough so you could see its grey blue eyes and hear the jingle of metal buttons and boots, 'are of interest to us...'
**********
She ran all the way to the mansion that day. She ran past all the topiaries without giving them a second thought, and almost knocking the door down she ran inside.
'Edward!' she cried out, 'Edward!'
Edward sidled out of some shadows and snipped welcomingly.
'Edward, I have something to show you!' she said, opening her bag, taking something out and letting it fall to the floor.
Edward, looking at the excited expression on her face stepped closer, his own face alight with wonder and awe at the unseen object. Jane lifted the object to her face, pointing it at him. Edward snipped his scissors.
'Cheese!' she exclaimed.
Before Edward knew was had happened there was a bright flash of light that forced him back again. The light disappeared, and he snipped nervously, looking around to see where the thing that flashed was.
'Oh Edward, I'm sorry,' said Jane, rushing over and holding his wrist, 'I should've told you. ' Jane showed him the thing in her hand, 'I went into the store just before I came here and I bought a camera. Look, it isn't dangerous.'
She let go, and held the camera so Edward could look at it properly. First of all he leaned forwards, as if he wouldn't get another chance to scrutinise the object. He narrowed his eyes a little, and with one long shaft of metal he poked at it, as if making sure it was dead. There was a rip of cheap cardboard as he did so, but he cocked his head to one side, and poked at the camera again, as if to find out if there were any more nooks and crannies in it. Jane didn't recoil, but staring at him intently said, 'see, it's just a camera.'
He looked up, moving mechanically, and smiled, the leather skin creaking gently, as if to inform her that he had made sure of her facts, and he now felt safe with the foreign object. She lifted it slowly to her face again and said, 'when you press this button, 'she pointed to a button on the camera, 'you can an image of a person inside the camera, which, at a later date you can put on paper without having to draw it.'
Edward nodded, still weary of the object. He poked it again with his scissors. Jane smiled to herself and lowering it she said, 'Edward, I have a favour to ask of you.'
He stared at her, his mind still preoccupied with the camera.
'This is going to sound strange, but could I paint you?'
Edward recoiled very fast and looked at her completely terrified. His blades clicked madly and he looked around, as if expecting people to jump out at him.
'Please Edward, I just want to paint a picture of you - ' Edward suddenly relaxed. The terror left his face and was replaced with slight embarrassed calm.
Jane couldn't help but chuckled to herself. He had thought she had wanted to paint him - literally! She knew it was a little mean, but sometimes even the best of us can't help it. She stepped towards him, her eyes full of sincerity. 'You don't have to, but I'd like you to let me. You don't even have to stay still, I could just be with you, just let me sketch things down.'
Edward looked to the walls of the old mansion as if he was deciding something. He stood there, looking at the wall for a good minute, and then turned to her. 'My father had paintings of himself.' He said.
'So, would you like one?' she asked.
Edward looked at her for a few seconds and then said, his voice weighed down with decision and carefulness, 'yes. I'd like it very much.'
Jane unexpectedly threw her arms around him to hug him. Edward, shocked, threw out his arms to catch her, but as he raised his hands, one of his blades speared Jane's left hand. Time seemed to hang in the air as she gasped out in pain, and held it up to her face to watched a single drop of warm blood weal up in the unintentional wound, and then, with the slowness of the mountains, they watched as it gradually trickled down her hand and felt like a comet to the floor, the sound of the small "plop" magnified by a million.
Jane looked up into his face, her face a picture of fear. Edward looked around, panicking. It had been a long while since he had drawn blood, and the same feeling of guilt and absolute terror filled his very being. By the expression on his face, he thought that she was about to shout at him the same things Jim had shouted at him long ago. * You ruin everything!* He said to himself in his head, *You destroy everything you touch!*He felt the dread roll up in his stomach. He opened his mouth, as if trying to explain it had just been an accident, he hadn't meant to do what he had done, but he had done it, and he knew that he shouldn't 've done it.
Then, as if time speeded up to compensate for the slowness before, Jane gripped her hand and let out a little groan. Edward didn't know what to do, but he did the first thing that came into his mind - Run. He turned to run away, but he heard a voice call out, 'Edward!'
He turned around, against his better judgement. Jane stood there, a little paler than usual, but otherwise fine. 'Edward, I'm sorry. It was just an accident. '
He stared at her. He couldn't remember a time when what he did was an accident. It had always been his fault, but never an accident. He became intrigued by this way of thinking, and walked towards her again, slowly, like a wounded dog. 'It was?' he asked.
He nodded, biting her lip.
'You still want to be my friend?' he asked, the excitement in his voice barely contained.
'I don't see why not.' She giggled, 'I just need to get a plaster or something, nothing too bad.'
'Do you still want to come up here, ' he asked in his innocent tone, 'you still wan to paint me?'
'Of course!' said Jane, stepping towards him, 'but first of all, I should wipe your blades clean. ' She reached into her pocket, and taking him over to the desk next to the cookie machine sat him down while she bound her hand with one half, and wiped Edwards blades clean with the other half.
Edward felt quiet happy as the girl wiped his blades ever so carefully, as if she were an expert at cleaning the things. She buffed them as much as she could with the tissue, and when she had finished she looked up at him and remarked, 'all done.'
Edward stood up and watched how she bound the hand with the little scrap of paper handkerchief, and watched as she turned around and saw something standing on a pedestal. She walked over to it, and picked it up. Edward looked at her curiously as she turned the pages. Jane seemed to notice his gaze and asked, 'Edward, what's this book?'
'It's my fathers book all about me.' Said Edward, 'It shows how I was made.'
Jane closed the book and looked right up at him asked, 'would you mind if I took it home and read it. It's very interesting.'
He shook his head. Jane put it on the floor, and standing up she said, 'Well, I think I better get started on this painting. Do you mind if I use the camera again?'
*********
Thanks for reading, please R and R this poor Author on your way out of this browser. All reviews appreciated. V.v. so because of exams.