NaNoWriMo warm-up: Another Uber bean

Posted: 27/10/2012 in Uncategorized

It smelled funny on this floor.  It didn’t smell like a gym or anything else quite that bad, but it just smelled funny.  There was a constant sound of explosions, tire screeching, and magical spells emanating behind each door.  There was also the sound of mostly tuned guitar.  Every once in awhile, one of the guys would poke their head out the door and almost make eye contact as she walked by.

Pascal never really expected that she would be at college and have to go on complete complicated mission to find a clove cigarette.  This did seem to be the situation she found herself in.  She could remember signing the campus mission statement.  I still felt fascist to her.  However, compared to other offers this campus was still a bastion of progressives.

Here, at this campus, not only could she walk into the boys dormitory floor, but she could even walk with one down the street.

Pascal found the right door.  She looked both ways for crooked-hat-tight-shirt-small-brain RA that she’d been warned about.  She knocked on the door.

“It’s open, come in!”

Pascal opened the door.  One bed was carefully made and the other a rumpled mess of sheets and clean clothes freshly tossed from a laundry basket.  On a comfy orange chair sat a guy with curly brown hair, light skin, who wore black shirt with a Soundgarden logo on it.

“Hey Andy,” she said.

“Hey Pascal,” he said, “You’re here for what I think you’re here for?”

Pascal produced a twenty dollar bill from her wallet.

“Thanks,” Andy said as he took the cash.  He unlocked his desk drawer and pulled out an entire carton.  He picked out a package of Clove menthols and handed it to Pascal.  She opened it up and inhaled the flavorful aroma.

“You do not want to know the kind degenerates I had to deal with to get that carton,” he said jovially.

“Oh do tell Andy!” Pascal smiled, “Hell you want be bad Christians and blaze it on the sidewalk with me?”

Moments letter Pascal crossed the mystical wall between the campus and the surounding streets.  As they were officially off campus, they both burnt their cloves and smoked with kind of flaunted liberation.

“So…” Pascal said, “she lives on campus, but dates that dude at the liquor store?”

“Used too apparently,” said Andy, “I don’t know what her deal is.  She’s 21 and taking three units here.”

Pascal’s face contorted.  The thought gave her more revulsion than the scent of the boys’ floor.

“That’s not even part time!  How’d she get that sweet gig?”

“You know I’m not sure,” he said, “I heard this from a girl who lives down the hall from her?  Her uncle’s loaded and works for the campus.  Managing scholarships or something?  I don’t know.”

“Wow.”

Andy exhaled stream of smoke.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

Pascal looked held her palm to her face in disbelief.

“Some families have to pay for this shit,” she said.

“Apparently, we have to pay for the degenerates too.”

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