Nobody loves me.
Ewan wanders into the room
Ewan: Nobody loves you.
Midnight Proc: AU = Alternate Universe. Think of the dogs.
Paige: Yah, Carolyn rules. She's like the cynical smart character that's in every story. AU = Alternate Universe.
Denzel Crocker: You're stupid. And I WILL vote Kerry!
Eax: I didn't intend Carolyn to be like Gaz. That's kinda cool. Yey! …and I didn't intend to make it HIGH school like that. Well, we all know what's on YOUR mind! AHAAHAHAHAHAHA…hahaha…ha…ahem. I have enough stalkers, but you're welcome to join the club.
Frotu!!!!: Take a look in your mailbox. I left a little surprise. Ha ha…ha ha. I kid, I kid. I don't even know where you live. …Thû loves you.
Mr. Sileg: Do you realize how many days that song has been stuck in my head?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHATSOEVER HOW MUCH TIME I SPENT TRYING TO GET THAT SONG OUT OF MY HEAD?! ZEEEEP EEEET!!! And I WILL vote Kerry!
Fun stuff.
Ewan: Can I disclaim? I've always wanted to disclaim!
…Fine.
Ewan: I own a blender!
§
As soon as the bell rang only to Christian, it didn't sound like a bell, but a car-alarm, a cow mooing, and the screech of a bat, it was time for Christian to find his homeroom. Unfortunately, he was stoned out of his mind and couldn't even see straight and when he COULD see straight, he only saw everybody and everything furry and fuzzy. All the goth punks suddenly were transformed into cuddly teddy bears with black eye-liner and piercings on their faces.
It ruled.
The best part was, they all saw how bloodshot his eyes were and figured he was just another pothead and so he was immediately accepted and agreed upon not to be the next bitch to beat up.
After slamming into the doorframe, Christian finally made it into his homeroom and missed the chair as he sat down.
This action led to Christian's tailbone being sore for a month and a half. But to him it was all good.
"Groovy," muttered Mr. Jolly, his hippie teacher, who was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk. He crumpled up the role sheet and threw it into the small campfire on his desk. "Now, dudes, it's like time for current events, mkay? So, Tiffany, do you want to start?"
An extremely thin girl with a pink Mohawk stood up and made her way over to the other side of the classroom. Christian watched as the fuzzy and furry girl climbed up on the windowsill and jumped through the open window. A nasty squish sound soon followed.
"Well, that was funky," commented Mr. Jolly. "All right, Tiffany, go ahead and start."
This time a pregnant girl with a black Mohawk stood up and held a piece of paper unsteadily in front of her.
"Cheese, $1.34. Kibbles and Bits, $6.19. Milwaukee's Best, $18.77. Cap—Wait, that's my receipt…" Tiffany dug through her duffle bag and pulled out a random piece of paper. "I wish I could sleep forever. Nobody will miss me—Ugh. That's my suicide note from three years ago."
"All right, let's just skip you, Tiffany. Thanks anyways. Much love, man." Mr. Jolly tossed a handful of glitter from his handy-dandy sack of glitter. "Mkay, let's move onto the new guy. Christian, do you have any current events, man?"
Christian was still fascinated with the window that the pink-haired girl leaped out of and naturally didn't hear his own name.
"Hey, man. I know staring streaks are groovy things but you need to pay some attention, man," Mr. Jolly said, waving a hand. He finally threw some more glitter to catch his attention.
"Who…?" Christian garbled.
"Current events, man. Share the love."
"Oh, um…grapes?"
The class, instead of laughing like they would back in Lansing, didn't move from their previous positions as they were used to that kind of response.
"All right, all right. Groovy. Very good, Christian, dude. We all know about the major grape shortage here in Milwaukee. Having grapes is like a totally controversial thing, dudes. It's like…being in Ethiopia with a Big Mac…it like doesn't happen, man. Awesome job, Christian. Thanks for pointing that out to us, man. Much love, much love."
Suddenly the announcement speaker crackled and a happy, jolly, fatherly voice boomed over the classroom.
"Good morning, MRHS! And happy Monday! This is your principal here for your morning announcements!"
Christian watched as seven more students abandoned their seats and one by one, took a leap out of the window.
"Don't forget the pep assembly after first period today! Be sure to wear your school colors! For those of you who forgot what our school colors are, they're gray and black. And for those of you who forgot to there even WAS a pep assembly today, that's okay because it doesn't matter! We're going to have fun anyways!"
A few more students filed out of the window.
"Come on down to the gym and show your school spirit! Well, there are lots of clubs and organizations meeting today but none of the members ever show up so don't even worry about it! Today for lunch, we'll be having bacon pizza with extra olive pits! Don't forget to bring a towel to gym class because you can never predict when you might need it! Well, that's it for your morning announcements! This is principal Zidler! Have a spiffy day, everybody!"
And like that, he was gone.
"Groovy, groovy. Are you all psyched for the pep assembly today?" Mr. Jolly asked the class. The class, or what was left of the class, didn't answer him. They never did. "All right, class, let's continue the lesson on conflicts in Iraq. Iraq is like the Vietnam of our time. Does anybody here remember who Sadaam Hussein is? Anyone?"
In response, Christian let out a sick gurgling noise and dropped his head onto the desk.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Academy Award Winner Johnny Depp," announced the announcer, as it was his job to announce. Derr.
Stumbling onto the stage was a rather drunk Johnny in his Michael Jackson hat and dark sunglasses, acting very much like his Raul Duke. It took him an entire six minutes to find the podium and figure out where he was.
"The nominees for best original screenplay arrrr!" He cleared his throat and hacked up a blob of something awful before continuing. "Sophia Copolla for Lost in Translation 2. Tim Herlihy for The Wedding Singer 2. Heather Lemmon for MAH. Ryan Philippe for Cruel Intentions 3. And Christian Timperline for The Mushy Love Story. Woot. And the Oscar goes toooo…"
Johnny stood up there, holding an imaginary envelope before realizing that it was, in fact, imaginary and couldn't be read. He finally got a hold of the actual envelope, opened it and stared at it for quite a long time.
"Enilrepmit Naitsirhc. Huh. I don't remember him getting nominated," he muttered before passing out on the ground.
"Maybe NEXT time, the presenter shouldn't be dyslexic!" screeched Halle Berry as she bustled her stuff onto the stage, giving all the men in the audience jolts of hotness. Waa.
Halle grabbed the envelope from the unconscious Johnny and held it up.
"The Oscar goes to Christian Timperline for his mushy love story."
"Yey…" replied the audience rather unenthusiastically as Christian smiled sheepishly and made his way to the podium. GollumRox just loved making fun of herself. …And she was really tired.
Halle grabbed Johnny by the ankle and dragged his body off the stage, making way for Christian. By the time the two Oscar winners were completely gone, Christian made his way up to the podium, clutching his Oscar and stared at the audience, who sat in a creepy silence.
Somewhere a cricket chirped.
"I don't get a standing ovation?"
A huge groan emerged from the crowd and they all reluctantly got out of their seats and clapped for Christian.
"Yey! I get a standing ovation!"
"Read it!" yelled an extremely drunk Ben Kingsley through cupped hands.
"Shut up, you old prune!" hissed a sober Julia Roberts but unfortunately, Christian had already heard his drunkard request.
"Nah, I can't re—okay, I will."
"Noooooooo!" the entire sober population of the audience screeched.
Mistaking their negative plea for an urge to read his Oscar-winning script, Christian whipped out a copy from a tiny pocket and slipped his gooooooooold statue into it. He set the script on the po—
"Duuuuuuuuuuuuude…duuuuuuuuuuuuude…"
Christian shook off the mysterious, echoing voice a—
"Duuuuuuuuuuuuude, focus, dude. Duuuuuuuuuuuuude…"
Ahem! AS I WAS SAYING! He set the script on—
"DUDE!"
Mr. Jolly took off his 2 pound, yin-yang necklace or as some of the students would call it, the hippie bling-bling, and chucked it hard at Christian's head, promptly jolting him awake.
"Ummbugger!" was Christian's response.
"Dude, the class left for the pep assembly like 15 minutes ago. After they left, I started like meditating, you know? And I'm like finished and I see you sitting there still and I'm like 'Dude, what's Christian doing here still?' so I'm like 'Duuuuuuuuuuuuude.' And you were all like "Uhhh…" So I had to wake you up, man. Hope minding isn't your thing."
"…Ow," came the delayed reaction as he rubbed the side of his head.
"You better like go on down to the gym, man. They probably started without you, dude."
"Kay." Christian stumbled out of his desk and hurried out of the classroom after slamming into the wall he apparently didn't notice.
"Dude, I want my groovy necklace back, man!" Mr. Jolly called after him. Christian didn't return. "Aw, dude. That's not cool, man. Now I have to like actually GO to that dumb assembly."
Luckily for Christian, Toulouse was waiting at the end of the hall for him like a good friend.
Awwwww!
"Hey, Jimmy," said Christian, approaching him.
"What took you so wong? I thought you died ow something."
"Ehhhh…"
"Oh weww. Wet's go."
They stepped outside and immediately shielded their eyes, hissed, and leapt back into the dark building.
"Weeeeet's go this way," Toulouse suggested.
On the way down the hall, Christian happened to be looking out the window and saw a huge pile of his classmates. Fortunately none of them died like he assumed because the author was in a very unmorbid mood and didn't feel like being homicidal.
But she'll make up for it later.
Upon entering the gym, Christian failed to notice the bar separating the two doors and promptly slammed into it.
After shaking off the blow, he failed to notice the xylophone player and collided with him.
After helping up the startled, but unharmed percussionist and dusting him off, he failed to notice the entire woodwind section of the band and trampled over them all.
Not only was the band and the entire school used to this sort of action, but it didn't even make a difference in the music they were playing; they were all playing their instruments backwards anyways.
Even the drum player, who was trying his hardest to blow a tune into his drumstick.
Principal Zidler watched from the center of the gym, trying to put on his biggest, most encouraging grin.
"Oooookay. Give it up for the MRHS band!" he bellowed into his microphone to the crowd of students and clapped.
The bleachers were so silent, that the only audible sound was the principal's clapping and the drummer's sputtering and snorting as he was trying to use his drumstick as a clarinet.
Christian spotted Steve, Greg and Pupitre sitting in the nerd section of the bleachers and he and Toulouse made their way over to them.
No really, there was a nerd section in the bleachers. Above the bleachers, the cheerleaders made rather sloppy banners stating "PUNKZ" "GOTHS" "NERDDS" "POTHEDS" and "TEECHRES".
Of course, the teachers never showed up for the pep assemblies and usually went home to sleep for two hours before returning to their miserable, underpaid lives.
"And now, students," principal Zidler boomed into the microphone, "it's the moment you've all been waiting for! Give it up for your Moulin Rouge High School cheerleaders!"
He threw his arm in the direction of the opposite side of the gym.
Nothing happened.
"…Ahem. Give it up for the CHEERLEADERS!"
A piece of plaster crumbled from the wall in response.
Confused, Christian looked around the gym for the cheerleaders who missed their cue…twice. He figured they were just like the rest of the school. Only worse.
"Oh, cheeeerleaders!" Zidler called, rather annoyed and impatient. "It's time for you to come out now!"
Silence followed along with a few scattered coughs from the crowd.
Before Zidler could scream in frustration and start yelling profanity – the action he'd been wanting to execute since he took charge of this stupid school – a few dazed, lost, and confused squeals emerged from the opposite side of the gym and out came the cheerleaders.
Garnished in the ever-so-patriotic colors of black and gray, the eight of them flaunted onto the gym floor, often yipping and just letting noises escape their mouths. Among other places.
A weak applause settled in the air as some of the more alert students gave a bleak effort to clap for the ditzy wonders.
As Christian observed the eight girls, he noticed every single one of them looked like they were dunked in oil and were getting high off the fumes.
"Woo! Kay…ready? Kay. Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go!" All the cheerleaders were doing for a routine was clap, raise a clenched fist into the air, and clap again. It seemed like they were marionettes voiced by a broken record replaying over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…
Pupitre couldn't stand it, vomited, and passed out, tumbling down the stairs of the bleachers.
And over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…
"Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go!" They all lined up, placed their arms on each other's shoulders and commenced a sloppy cancan. "Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go!"
For a finale, one of the cheerleaders abandoned the kick line, and turned on a stereo that was lying around near the wall.
Blaring out the speakers was Marilyn Monroe's infamous song: "Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend" only it was a spiffy little updated version with—
"Hold it! Hold it, hold it, hold it!"
Snap back to reality. Opp! There goes gravity!
"Forkie, you can't use that song," said the muse and slapped GollumRox's hand in punishment.
"Why not? It has to parallel the movie, right?" she rebutted, punching him in the face in response to his chastisement. Now her hand hurt from both the slap and the blow to Ewan's jaw.
"It does have to parallel the movie, but just don't use THAT song," Ewan explained, rubbing his jaw. He shoved GollumRox out of her chair.
"Well, what song can I use if it has to mean the same thing?" she demanded, leaping up and kicking her muse in the shin.
"I have no idea! You're the writer!" Ewan head-butted her and she tumbled backwards over her CD player.
"Well, YOU'RE the muse! You're supposed to come up with all the spiffy ideas!" Forkie grabbed an aluminum bat and jabbed him in the gut.
"Fine, fine! Leeeeeesten!" Ewan crawled over to GollumRox's TV, pushed in the tape jutting out of the VCR and let it play.
Upon the screen, GollumRox saw her first husband performing his Oscar-worthy role, singing in his Grammy-worthy voice and a humongous burst of inspiration uh, burst through her!
Yey!
"Thanks, Ewan!" GollumRox struck her muse in the ribcage with her bat, causing him to tumble over and leapt back into her chair to continue typing, leaving the TV on just for kicks.
Warp.
Upon hearing the dead Marilyn Monroe song, the cheerleader paused, snorted, hacked up something, blinked laboriously a few times, and turned it to the next track.
NOW blaring out of the speakers was "Love Stinks" by…I dunno. But it's a song! And it was playing!
Yey!
Changing the tracks to the CD player was way too much work for the cheerleader and she lost consciousness completely.
As the infamous 80's song blasted through the gym, the song reached the part where the guitar, keyboard and COWBELL join in, cuing another cheerleader to burst through some banner on the other side of the gym.
As soon as she did, the entire crowd of both students and teachers turned their potheads over to her, most of them drooling over the redness of her red hair.
It was red.
The redhead cheerleader wasn't like the others. No, she was different.
Well, one thing, she had red hair.
Secondly, she acted like she went with less than two weeks of sleep, AND she was pretty.
Hey, don't look at me like that! I don't swing that way! I was just saying she wasn't some ugly bitchy looking broad, that's all!
Jeez.
Anyways, this new cheerleader squealed enthusiastically a few times before rounding off, back hand-springing three times and finally back-flipping landing in the splits, throwing up both her arms.
"Wowwwwww…" was the crowd's response.
Christian drooled.
No, he wasn't shallow or anything. He just thought she was pretty spiffy.
And then she began to sing.
"You love her, but she loves him, and he loves somebody else, you just cant win!" She grabbed a local punk from the crowed and pulled him up by his NIN shirt. "And so it goes until the day you DIE, this thing they call love is gonna make you CRY!"
Before she could shove the punk back down into his seat, he'd already passed out. From what, we'll never know.
"I've had the blues, the reds and the pinks, one thing's for sure!"
She held an imposing stance and waited for her fellow cheerleaders to scream "LOVE STINKS!"
Buuuut, it never happened. And it only turned out to be a long pause before the hot cheerleader continued "Yeah, yeah!"
She whirled her head around glaring them into submission.
Heh heh, that's a pretty cool phrase.
Upon this, the cheerleaders responded half-heartedly "Love stinks…"
"Yeah, yeah!"
"Love stinks?"
"Yeah, yeah! Two by two, and side by side, lo—find you, yes it—all I can say is—yeah, ye—shool—minks—all—love st—"
And finally the CD just stopped playing the song altogether.
The cheerleaders slumped and stared at the stereo for a long time until the wire short circuited, sputtered out a few sparks, fizzled and the left speaker caved in.
An extremely long silence followed.
"Well, uh, we don't need music for your guys' entertainment, do we?!" principal Zidler encouraged, now stepping onto the gym floor with the microphone.
"Uh, yeah we do. I can't sing without music," the spiffy cheerleader said.
"Just improvise, Satine," Zidler suggested, standing aside.
And so the cheerleader known as Satine rolled her eyes, and cued her comrades to start up another routine.
It was the same routine.
"Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go! Go! MRHS! Go!"
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over…
"So, is it all set up?" Satine muttered through an exaggerated grin the principal as she clapped, stuck a fist in the air and clapped.
"All set. Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?" Zidler muttered back.
"Oh yeah. I'm fine. So where is he?"
"Somewhere in the nerd section probably."
Satine stole a glance to the left of her to quickly scan the nerd section in search of this mysterious person.
Oooooo!
"Why's she looking over here?" Christian asked Toulouse.
Toulouse didn't answer. He was currently receiving an atomic wedgie by some big scruffy looking dude that could pass for either Crabbe or Doyle.
…You know. Harry Potter.
"MAKE IT STOP!!! MAKE IT STOP!!!" Toulouse was screaming as he kicked his legs through the empty air in agony.
Zidler squinted his eyes to see better.
"Ah, he's the one giving that midget nerd a wedgie! HAHAHAHA! Lookit him go!"
"Hey, um, can you like put my friend down?" Christian timidly requested to the big lug. The big lug, however, only gave him a piercing glare underneath his unibrow. "Uh…please?"
"All right, Kronk. That's enough, let him go," came a high, squeaky rodent-like voice from behind Christian.
Before Christian could see where the voice came from, the Crabbe/Doyle dude let go of Toulouse's tighty whities, allowing only his ass to cushion him.
"Owwww…"
After Satine completed her series of back hand-springs, she had a look in the direction of the principal's gaze.
Christian heaved Toulouse up and set him back on the bleachers.
"Ooo, spiffiness," Satine concluded, returning to her lame-ass routine.
"Hey, now, that wasn't very nice," Christian said as he turned and faced the owner of the high, squeaky, rodent-like voice.
The dude looked like a cross between Malfoy and a mouse.
Harry Potter again.
"I know it wasn't nice," he sneered back at Christian, flicking his nose. "That's why I did it. Would you like to join your friend in his agony?"
They both looked down at Toulouse who was twitching and spazzing from the pain in his ass crack.
"Can't…feew my…wegs…"
"No, not really but that still wasn't very nice and you shouldn't pick on people like that." Christian felt kinda proud of himself for acting courageous, especially since he was known back in Michigan for being the biggest pussy to ever walk the earth.
Even the teachers made fun of him. They called him Kristin Skimpy-wean. I mean, that has to be pretty low if the TEACHERS mock you. Heh heh…sorry.
"Oh, well thank you for that insightful advice, friend. Kronk." The rodent dude snapped his fingers and the manservant got a death-grip on Christian's underwear and yanked up.
"Meeeep!" Christian squeaked before being pitched down the stairs, landing on Pupitre's unconscious body.
"Very good, Kronk. Go get the snack!" Ratman whipped out a dog biscuit from his pocket and tossed it in the air.
"Got it!" Kronk yipped, jumping up for the airborne treat, only to biff over the bleachers and fall on his back, crushing a few of the smaller nerds.
Feeling numb from the waist down, Christian groaned in agony as he attempted to roll off the top of Pupitre and landed on his back on the hard gym floor.
As he looked up, however, he saw an unfamiliar, yet welcoming face.
"I believe you were expecting me," Satine purred.
"Uhhh…" was all that came out of Christian's mouth.
"Of course you were expecting me!" Satine squealed, grabbing Christian's arm and yanking him up.
"Uh, okay…"
Then, Satine turned to the crowd of dazed students.
"It's—ah, forget it. Let's just randomly dance."
Before he knew it, Christian was gettin' down with his bad self in front of the entire school with some cheerleader he didn't even know.
It was awesome.
Also before he knew it, a very grotesque, disturbing, obscene, and all around BAD song started up from the half-mutilated boom box.
"Meet you in the red room, close the door and dim the lights…"
Satine threw her head back and laughed maniacally at the sound of these very grotesque, disturbing, obscene and all around BAD lyrics and immediately sang along.
"I will be yours truly if indeed the price is right."
"I like that show," Greg muttered to Steve.
"THIS SONG!" he spazzed, clawing empty air. "THIS SONG IS THE DEVIL'S WORDS! EEEEEEEVIL!!!" Suddenly, but without any surprise from Greg, Steve went into cardiac arrest and tumbled down the steps, joining Pupitre in a very painful manner.
Greg looked around and realized he had the entire row of bleachers to himself. He felt left out and decided to deliberately trip himself and collapse down the steps.
"So draw your sword—"
"Muhgoo?!" Christian sputtered, looking down to see if it was, in fact, en garde.
It wasn't.
Phew.
"Be my king, let your passions rise and sing, just show me the diamonds and I'll let you wear my ring."
"Bad idea, sister," comment one extremely freakish teacher, not glancing up from his Vanity Fair mag. But we'll get to him later.
"So just lay down the side, let us consummate," Satine purred, wrapping her arms around Christian's shoulders and getting a little too close to his face. "I know you're bursting, let me help you deflate."
"Eh heh heh…" Christian's eyes shifted around nervously as he tried to wriggle away from Satine's death grip.
"If you want to plug in for a high voltage connection, show me cold hard cash and I will turn on my affection. Ooo, ah, ah—"
"OH-kay! We're not going to go into that part, are we, Satine?" Principal Zidler butted in. "Let's try to keep it PG-13, okay?"
However, he forgot the stereo was still blaring out that very grotesque, disturbing, obscene and all around BAD part of the song in which the singer just starts moaning for 30 seconds.
All throughout the moaning, everyone just kinda stood there, staring at the boom box until it reached the second verse. Satine continued her mindless exotic dancing.
"So don't hesitate, I won't kiss and tell, no need to worry cuz, uh, hee hee, I'm a professional."
"Oh?" Christian looked to his friends for help but only saw an empty row in the bleachers.
Some friends.
"The show can start as soon as I see money on the table, I've an empty space to fill, I'm willing if you're able."
As fate would have it, right when the moaning started back up, the very grotesque, disturbing, obscene and all around BAD song just stopped altogether just before it exploded, leaving a hole in the gym floor.
"Goddammit," grumbled Satine. "Now we have to stop randomly dancing."
"Fine by me," Christian grinned, stepping back. WAY back.
"Well, you heard the song," Satine said, handing Christian a card.
Before he could read it, he was immediately grabbed by two cheerleaders and dragged back to the bleachers.
"Wait—"
"Schpirit schtick!" announced one of the cheerleaders who was actually clinically insane before sending the surprisingly hard spirit stick bashing into the side of Christian's skull.
Christian passed out as an obvious result.
"Nice going, Nini," muttered the other cheerleader, letting Christian's body collapse on the pile of his friends.
Except for Toulouse, who was currently receiving a swirlie from the walking rat and his minion.
"Schorry," the insane cheerleader drooled, grinning. Her teeth looked like Legos.
…Wait, they WERE Legos.
It was time for Satine and the other cheerleaders to skip merrily off and out of the gym for the rest of the retarded assembly to continue.
"Bye! Go MRHS! Spirit fingers! Wheee!" Satine squealed, skipping off, waving her, yes, spirit fingers.
"Woo! Heh heh…Woo!" muttered the others who were just flailing their arms and tripping over themselves.
"MRHS! Number one! Go, fight wi—" Satine's yips were cut short when she slammed into the wall and fell backwards.
Naturally, the other cheerleaders did the same.
"Whoopsiedoodle!" Zidler chuckled, not actually finding this humorous. "Maybe they should watch where they're going so they don't miss the door!"
After two and a half minutes, no movement was coming from any of the cheerleaders.
"All right, everybody go back to class."
No movement came from the students either.
"Seriously, kids. Go back to class. It's over."
The more aware students processed the message and abandoned the bleachers.
In the meantime, Zidler rushed over to the unconscious cheerleaders but was only concerned about one.
This was proved by him stepping on the others' squishy bodies to get to her.
He bent down to Satine and lifted her head up. He groaned.
"Oh, I am fortune's fool. What thyne eyes hath ne'er done thy work in the nightingale's call in the morn. Or that thou washeth thy lips with the sweet sorrowful woes of the lark's untimely—"
"I'm okay," Satine muttered, who had actually woken up on his fourth word.
"Oh." Zidler whipped his hands out from underneath her head, letting her fall again. "Uh, I usually don't quote Shakespeare…ever."
"That's great, cuz—"
"Oh Satine! Aren't you just excited about this? Your first…uh, actually, it's not quite your FIRST but isn't it grand?!"
"Not really…"
"Well…have fun anyways!" Zidler skipped off, squashing some of the other cheerleaders in the process.
"I can handle this," Satine said mindlessly as she sat there among the scattered bodies. "I can totally handle this. I'm cool…"
Her left eye twitched.
§
Ugh. This WILL get better…hopefully. In the meantime, go meander into the favorites list and read that stuff. GO!
Ewan: Fleeeee!