"This how you charm women? Shit." Jupiter walks around young Alva Berzelius who is on the brink of disaster and yet still drowning in broads, examining him for clues as to exactly how this works.
Oh, wait. They're supposed to get the linchpin. "Do we have to play quid pong?" A pause. "Because Kermie's my partner and I am not allowed to quid pong without him."
"I hope we have to play quid pong!" Felicity chirps up. "We'll get 'em out of here in no time." She tries to pick up a cup of beer to chug as she circles the table. You know, just in case that's the linchpin.
"Oh, and grab the boobs," she agrees, as if this is being put to a vote.
"...Questionable consent." Is Audrey's vote against that particular plan. She straightens up and tries to line the quid pong table up with her eyes. God, she's not good at this. Nor prepared. She buys time by looking up at Jup, a little too serious. "...But I bet if you played just. The best game of Quidpong. To save Kermie. And everyone. He'd be proud. When you tell him later."
She's all set to accept that cheap beer games will set them free, and God help them all.
Claudia, adjusting Ms. Altizer's delightfully 1980s top so it's just a little more off the shoulder, circles back around so she's standing behind her again.
"I bet I could nail it now," she says, and uses Ms. Altizer's hand to toss the ping pong ball at the red solo cups.
"Oh! Me!" Felicity grabs a ball with her right hand and closes her left eye as she takes aim. She brings her Big Gulp up, finds the straw with her mouth, and takes a drag for hydration and good luck.
Then with a flick of her wrist, she sends the ball flying.
Edited (see y'all during my lunch break!) 2020-06-09 17:17 (UTC)
"I bet you gotta get it in the cleavage," Jupiter observes, already loading Ms. Altizer's hand with another plastic ball, pulling it back at the elbow like a catapult and letting it fly.
Audrey blinks. That should’ve done it. But, ah, that’s not quite all there is to beer pong. “Ooooh.” She doesn’t bother to explain. But she takes this hit and goes to stand on the other side of the table. Gingerly, politely, she fetches the cup Jup had thrown the ball into. She drinks the beer in it, fishing out the ping pong ball and trying real hard to not think about whose chest this had just been embraced in.
You know, Mr. B would probably at least whine about one of his students doing that in regular life, but apparently it's fine right now. Because he doesn't move, and neither does the memory.
Edited (the longer this takes them the more delighted I am) 2020-06-10 02:38 (UTC)
That beer was gross, and now she's going to have a headache later. Audrey resists the urge to sink on to the floor in defeat only because the floor is so sticky. From where she stands, she throws the ball back to the cup in front of Ms. Altizer. Surely the truth must still lie in the pong.
Or making out with Jupiter, who can say, that's as good an idea as any.
"There's bound to be a kissing closet somewhere," Claudia muses, and she finally turns away from her future teacher to start looking for closets. "Maybe a blanket strung up in a corner to hide the smoochers. Who wants to investigate the best places with me?"
The beers in the towers are all empty, a monument to the things grad students can achieve when they really put their minds to it, but one of them feels different. One of them crumples under Jupiter's hands, the tower tilts precariously, and things start moving again.
A cardboard sledder careens down the stairs at a disastrous angle and slams into the tower of beer cans. The tower crumbles, cans scatter, and partygoers throw themselves out of his way. One slams into the blonde, who stumbles forward into Alva’s chair at the exact wrong moment, and he faceplants right on the floor.
Well, almost on the floor. It’s a long second before Nes notices the dumb plastic horn with a splintered mouthpiece jabbed right into his eye.
“Shit, Alva!” Nes spits out and drops to the ground by his side. Someone’s already on the phone, calling for an ambulance in rapid Russian. “Shit, fuck, Alva, your eye, Laveau’s la—”
Nes stops, midsentence, and quirks her head. She can see the person on the phone from here; a petite blonde girl with a whole lotta boobs. And if no one here understands Russian, don’t worry. Nes sure as hell does.
Her tone changes abruptly, and she looks down at Alva as he yanks the vuvuzela from his eye. “Did she just call you her boyfriend?”
Alva pauses. Potentially considers stabbing the horn back on his face before letting go. It clatters to the floor. Everything stops again, a sheepish smile frozen on his face.
Literally, actually, there is blood and eye juice just everywhere, and Audrey looks a little sick, a little pale. She turns away from that and on a whim, steals the blonde girl's phone. Is she even calling an ambulance? And it could restart the memory they have to pick up the next piece in this strange Rube Goldberg machine of an evening.
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peckenpaugh2020-06-01 11:18 am
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
Oh, wait. They're supposed to get the linchpin. "Do we have to play quid pong?" A pause. "Because Kermie's my partner and I am not allowed to quid pong without him."
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
"Oh, and grab the boobs," she agrees, as if this is being put to a vote.
MEMORY: Party Games
She's all set to accept that cheap beer games will set them free, and God help them all.
MEMORY: Party Games
"I bet I could nail it now," she says, and uses Ms. Altizer's hand to toss the ping pong ball at the red solo cups.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
Then with a flick of her wrist, she sends the ball flying.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
Nothing happens, but she looks cool.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
Surely that was the missing link.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
That beer was gross, and now she's going to have a headache later. Audrey resists the urge to sink on to the floor in defeat only because the floor is so sticky. From where she stands, she throws the ball back to the cup in front of Ms. Altizer. Surely the truth must still lie in the pong.
Or making out with Jupiter, who can say, that's as good an idea as any.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
A cardboard sledder careens down the stairs at a disastrous angle and slams into the tower of beer cans. The tower crumbles, cans scatter, and partygoers throw themselves out of his way. One slams into the blonde, who stumbles forward into Alva’s chair at the exact wrong moment, and he faceplants right on the floor.
Well, almost on the floor. It’s a long second before Nes notices the dumb plastic horn with a splintered mouthpiece jabbed right into his eye.
“Shit, Alva!” Nes spits out and drops to the ground by his side. Someone’s already on the phone, calling for an ambulance in rapid Russian. “Shit, fuck, Alva, your eye, Laveau’s la—”
Nes stops, midsentence, and quirks her head. She can see the person on the phone from here; a petite blonde girl with a whole lotta boobs. And if no one here understands Russian, don’t worry. Nes sure as hell does.
Her tone changes abruptly, and she looks down at Alva as he yanks the vuvuzela from his eye. “Did she just call you her boyfriend?”
Alva pauses. Potentially considers stabbing the horn back on his face before letting go. It clatters to the floor. Everything stops again, a sheepish smile frozen on his face.
MEMORY: Party Games
"Hellooooooo? Any kissers? Hay besadores?"
MEMORY: Party Games
Juicy.
Literally, actually, there is blood and eye juice just everywhere, and Audrey looks a little sick, a little pale. She turns away from that and on a whim, steals the blonde girl's phone. Is she even calling an ambulance? And it could restart the memory they have to pick up the next piece in this strange Rube Goldberg machine of an evening.
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games
MEMORY: Party Games